I tried carrying it
I tried carrying the weight of the world of my shoulders
I was walking slow
my feet deeper into mud
There were people all around me
throwing more things on the heap I was carrying on my shoulders
I met men who are completely empty
with a happy public face
covering the deepest sadness I have ever seen.
I met women who would rather throw themselves into that sadness
for their pain of seeing inside themselves was unbearable
selling their soul rather than looking at it and learning to heal,
to love it.
That takes courage and humility.
But I fell into it too.
I was kicked and pushed
yelled at, criticized, asked to run
when I was already out of breath.
Was I wrong in trying to carry it all ?
Was I wrong in denying myself,
The need for help and love ?
Who was that "I" unheard and unseen
by sick men and women ?