Carrying Burdens

A cavan of rice, after it is swung  
and flung onto shoulders, will obey  
and conform to the build of the bearer,  

The rice inside will yield to the shape,  
to the avoiding nape and the dip  
between clavicle and scapula,  
 
You embrace the bulk as if it were a body,  
the rice is noisy, crunching as you move,  
as you huff and hurry to a rising pile.  
 
I remember the cavan as a young man  
quivering like a leaf under the cargo  
focused on bringing it to destination.  
 
Ay, but today’s burdens are leaden,
sack upon sack, they are borne to no pile,
they are brought to no end in sight.