Burden

We all carry this burden

at one time or another,

this heavy burlap sack

of sorrow and pain

grappling on our backs,

wondering if it will ever lighten.


It's a byproduct

of loving

of caring

of losing...

how could we have known

it would be such a brutal load?


Others don't realize

if it's been a while

since they've lost someone,

they've forgotten its weight

on their back,

the excruciating knot in their heart,

and they've let go of

some of their sorrow.

They've set it free,

sent off with prayers

to their gods

or in meditations

they've let it go

with the wind.


But to those of us

whose burdens are still fresh,

still stinging and raw,

we recognize it's grip

when we see it in the eyes of others.

We see it behind their smiles

the pain that sits there

like a raptor

waiting for a moment

of weakness to grasp

the tender, fragile heart

and make them remember

their loss with tears.


We see them struggling,

and though they may look unbowed

to the eyes of most,

we see the curve of their shoulders,

sagging ever so slightly,

under the cumbersome burden.

We offer words of comfort, 

a balm for their wounded hearts,

and in the sharing, it is hoped

we help each other heal.

For we are members of a tribe

whose dues are paid for

by the painful, intimate knowledge

of the burden of grief.


Rose Steedley Williams

©Southernstoryteller~4/2011

edited 06/06/2016