{"sf1_id":1696908,"sf2_id":"J1Ogak1j","title":"And I Shall Rest","author":"Rob MacWolf","words":245,"posted_at":"2021-03-18T20:51:00.000Z","tags":["Hymn","Poetry","lyric"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1696908-and-i-shall-rest","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/J1Ogak1j","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/4b/eb/4beb4b61-8f60-4837-b818-dcc7bceb6c83","description":"#2 of poetry\n\nYou came upon the campfire by the crossroads long after sunset. It didn't look like the folk around it knew eachother, and and if anybody had any objections when you sat down, they kept em to themselves.\nYou were tired enough that you were half asleep the second you were off your feet, but somebody passed you a cup of broth (tasted like it had a shot of whiskey in it) and somebody else, the real thin rat, had pulled out a guitar, and somebody else, the wolf with the funny teeth, you think, had pulled out some kinda stubby whistle, and everyone else seemed to know the tune they were playing.\nYou coulda sworn they sang it all night, but that was probably just the song bleeding into your dreams.\nWhen you woke in, the sun was just up. The fire was cold. They'd all moved on, no way to tell what direction, or directions more likely. But the song kept playing in your head, and when you got distracted in the back of your mouth, all day. And it made the steps feel just a little lighter.","content":"Sun going down. And I am far from home.  \nSun going down. And I'm out there alone.  \nOn the roads, I'm one more weary soul  \nSearching for some place where I'll be whole.\n\nWith my loaded backbone bending  \nAnd the pain jolts up my arm.  \nI will reach for rest from grieving  \nAnd I shall be free from harm.\n\nNobody here. And I have lost the light.  \nNobody here, in all this land of night.  \nIf I disappear, if this is my time to go,  \nThere's nobody here who would ever know.\n\nWhen my mind is drowned in shadows  \nAnd the skies are low and drear.  \nI will reach for rest from grieving,\u0026nbsp;  \nAnd I shall be free from fear.\n\nThere's no land, that I may call my own.  \nThere's no road, that's gonna take me home.  \nAnd there's an ache, in weary feet it starts,  \nAnd there's no cure once it has reached the heart.\n\nBut when my eyes turn sunsetward  \nAnd I no more hope in vain,  \nI will reach for rest from grieving\u0026nbsp;  \nAnd I shall be free from pain.\n\nSun going down. And that is what it do.  \nSun going down. And I am going down too.  \nI'm battered and worn. But I will not forget,  \nSun going down, but it aint down yet.\n\nI may be tired and weary,  \nAnd a cold wind chilling me,  \nBut I will reach for rest from grieving\u0026nbsp;  \nAnd I shall at last be free.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1696231-mistolin-compassionate-to-the-bereaved-hear-me.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1697613-evensong-for-flock-and-pack.json"}}