HERCULEAN

His blisters are probably bigger than his muscles

and he's probably produced more sweat than logs

in the hours

that he's toiled in the shade

cutting wood.

He barely knows what's he's doing:

place

lift

let ax fly

down unto its victim

splitting it asunder

splintering himself further.

He is miserable.

He is in pain.

His lower back aches in places

he didn't know could ache.

He is suffering

and he is doing the work.

"This is my punishment,"

he thinks

"this is redemption.

I will free myself this way

eventually."

He chops more blocks

beating the wood into manageable sizes

to be used later for fuel.

For now, though

the only fuel he needs

is his shame

and his sorrow

which will get him through this task

and probably the next.

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