pushing around heavy souls (a poem)

I saw him on the way to bring the kids home from school

He was graceful

And his baseball cap belied his masculinity

As he gently pushed the storm drain cement pipe

Hoisted by a crane, rooting for the earth
15 feet long and it’s girth almost as wide as he was tall

And it responded to his touch

Beautifully

By swinging just the right amount,

In just the right direction

Over the deep rectangular pit that had been dug for it

In the warm black clay earth.

I am maneuvering heavy souls

That appear as freckled, gangly bodies

With dirt under their nails and and germy fingers

Disheveled hair

Sometimes teary-eyes, sometimes impertinent

And I push them

Too hard

Too fast

It feels wreckless

And sometimes I want to jump back

Or just run away

My feet won’t move

And I’m there to catch them

As they spin back around

To crush me

My body slows their momentum

Or is it my heart

My ribs are crushed

Or is it my heart

My knees buckle

Or is it my heart

And I realize they nor I will ever get up

I’ll be holding my heavy souls on my lap

All my life

Or is it my heart