Thursday, January 28, 2010

Chōka

I raise up my hand,
and my liege glides to my side,
fits her hand on mine,
where we both swore it would rest.
As the sky bears down,
her weight is a light burden;
as the earth bears up,
I do my best not to quake.
We have this promise,
but I’m afraid I will fail,
drop her hand, and run away.

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