Being Carried

I didn't know, for most of my life,

that I was being carried.

It was I,

I used to whine,

who did the heavy lifting,

the shifting, the getting done, the making.

But looking back I see how wrong I was.

Without the broad wings beneath me,

there's no way I, alone, could have survived.

Even as I carried, I was carried.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Ann Tudor
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