Under the bridge on my way to freedom I dropped all my bags for awhile.
I left them behind, stepped into the sunlight, as an old man gave me a smile.
I’m sure he assumed that his warmth went unnoticed, but it kept me going for days.
It’s not just a phase. I must wear down this cage.
Children hold hands on the streets of the city, I watch from the top of my stoop.
Their T-shirts are matching, a few of ‘em laughing, and I must admit that it’s cute.
Two minutes go by and another group passes, men in identical suits.
We travel in groups. Like uniformed troops.
I know you need me to give you some comfort, but I never could reassure.
I can celebrate or commiserate, but please don’t ask me for more.
It’s not that I don’t want you to feel better, but I can’t be your support.
I’ve tried building forts, but I come up too short.
And I can’t pretend that I get lots of visions, I haven’t heard Gabriel’s call.
My flesh it connects to my constant revisions, indecision clouding it all.
And if I could look to the future I’d tell you a lie, I’d say we never fall.
But we fall. My eyes say it all.
The weight of the world sits on everyone’s shoulders, some people they take on the blame.
They cry out I’m sorry, I’m worthless, Forgive me, suck sympathy in with their shame.
And then there are those who silently suffer and those who whisper their grief.
Most talk is cheap. It’s my blessing to sing.
-Weight of the World, Kerri Lowe
December 25, 2012 at 2:37 pm | Homepage | No comment