The pendant on my neck is too heavy to carry,
It is slowly stealing my shaky breath away.
Its silver holds all the stories I need to bury,
All the overdue debts that I must finally pay.
But the path ahead is muddy so I must hurry.
The wolves are after the scent of the impure.
The setting sun makes my aching eyes worry –
I am running out of light, and there is no cure.
Once seven stars rise, they will kill my story,
Ripping me into simple letters and spaces.
Until that hour comes, I must carry this for thee,
I must carry the cross until I lose my pace.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 