I drag behind me
a wooden pallet.
Piled upon it
are rocks and boulders.
It’s a heavy load
for a child.
I struggle,
trying to pull it
across the town square.
It’s too much for me
and I stop,
exhausted.
I can go no further.

You appear by my side,
arm around my shoulder.
“What are all these, Claire?”
you ask.
“It’s all of my work,” I reply.
“I have so much to do
and sometimes
it just feels impossible.
I don’t know
whether I can do it.”

You look at my pile of stones.
One of them is massive.
You point to it and say,
“Tell me about that one.”
“That’s my night class,”
I reply.
“It’s really tough.”

“I can help you with that,”
you reply.
“Just leave it with me.
I will send people to help you.
Look out for them.
Ask them for help
and you will receive it.
I will act through them.
But right now,
you’re tired.
You need to rest.
Rest with me.”

I snuggle up against you
and fall asleep.

© Claire Murray, 9th November 2011