Small Conceits

Musings. Stories. Poems. From where I stand.

Weight

2 Comments

For the love of a past life.

I can’t find my way back

the only trail is a broken path
of things half-said or unsaid
with outcroppings of silence
hanging darkly over it

for a while,
I saw you in the distance —
a glimpse of your shirt
a flash of your hair in the sun —
as you receded from me

don’t judge me too harshly
I never knew what to do
with a love like that
how was I supposed to carry it?
where did it fit?
where do you put something that big
and frightening and heavy?

so I shrugged it off and set out
feeling lighter for a while

but that’s not the way it works
you don’t just set those things down
wipe your hands on your jeans
and stride off, the road suddenly straighter

eventually, the weight of its absence hits you
and you realize it contained essentials:
sustenance
warmth
shelter
a compass

the other half of your soul

and now I’m wandering
my direction muddled
my feet stumbling
no stars for steering

and no Home in sight

A forest path

Author: Denise

I'm Denise. I believe that stories lurk in all the tiny moments that make up our everyday lives. They wait, curled into themselves, until someone finds them and jailbreaks them, leading them out into the light. And there's always a story.

2 thoughts on “Weight

  1. I know that path…

    Like

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