A Burden


Do not fret over the title loved ones, this is not about what you think it is. Well, maybe a little, but not like that. Sorry it’s been a couple of weeks since I posted readers, time got away from me a bit. There’s a little of that in here too. I was not sure how to label this work, poetry, prose, poetic prose, prose poetry, so I just present it to you. Enjoy.

A Burden

A life is too heavy…

… to carry on one’s own.  Without other hands it strains the wrists, and back, and legs and the burning spreads throughout your body and you just want to let go and sometimes you do. That is why we need family, and friends, or even just that pan handler you politely say no to, and the burden is shared ever so slightly, easing the discomfort, for you, and for them.

A life is too heavy…

… to ask others to lift. We are all alone until we are not. Just because they are willing, does not mean they are able. Their  lives spill over into your grip as you reach out. We look around in panic wondering who has strong shoulders and steady hands. Who has little enough to share, who has too much, who seems to be Hercules taking Atlas’s load for everyone, and smart enough to know when to give it back.

A life is too heavy…

… to notice much else. Every step you sink in the clay a little more. Every breath a little more labored. Going forward is too hard, but going back is no option, and stopping, stopping just makes you sink that much quicker until you are up to your neck and knowing your face is about to be covered, but if you are lucky, someone pulls you out, or you wiggle out on your own.

A life is too heavy…

… to not get stronger. Every repetition, every shift of the load, every moment you cope you build more muscle, more stamina and more resilience. Like all training it is hard, especially when you first tackle it deliberately, but when you do, oh when you do, you surprise yourself with what you can accomplish.

A life is too heavy…

… to carry forever. Like every labor it cannot last. Decades of trauma and triumph gather like iron on a bar until it cracks and breaks you and sets you free, and if you are lucky you can watch someone else pick up where you left off.


What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s