The Weight

I wrote this two years ago, but never put it 'out there'. I find it interesting now. Maybe time has lessened its weight; maybe the monkey mind finally found something else to do....






A half forgotten dream starts my day. The argument, start of the heart-tension upon waking.

The slow waking should be a pleasure. Those moments when you are half dreamy. Instead, they only brought the looking.

A man roaming the empty halls of an unfurnished mansion. Room by room, door by door. Closets. Attic. Basement. Looking for the answer. Why?

An ache, something is missing. And upon finding it, realizing it isn't a pleasant discovery, but a heavy burden to be carried. An attachment. Weighted down.

I can't drop it. Once found, it's mine. For the day. Until sleep brings relief once again.

Some days are much harder. It's a such a burden. A bloody axe stuck in my hand. I try and resolve it, but there is no resolution. There is no reason, it just is. I can't get these blood stains off my hands.

I can't drop it. I can't clean it up.

So I Wait.

Wait for the day that I don't go looking for it. Because if I look for it, I'm sure to find it. Again. And carry it around for the day. One year is coming up soon. Milestones may mean something.

I wait to find real forgiveness, and wait to find real peace. I wait to let it go. It's there, I have had glimmers.

So I Wait.