Whose Burden, Whose Opportunity?
Simmering low, beneath the surface
Thoughts of something not so shocking
Fires rage and foam bubbles
Overflowing, seeping, leaking from every missed stitch
In the seams of existence.
She shall tell no one but me
About the struggle to live
The pain in her soul
At life’s turnings and twists,
Not the path chosen and not a path wanted.
Past trials mirrored by the present
She cannot see how to turn it ’round
On this day, she knows not the glut of pain seething in me
She asks to put her load on me, her growth in my hands
Help, she speaks, cries, whispers, mouths.
The rock inside me moves an inch, no more.
What is it to say what I think?
But impossibility in this moment,
I do it
To save her, ease her pain, avoid the truth that
It is entirely possible not many would miss her were she gone.