heavy

There he was, waiting patiently
for the world to spin the other way,
to end a monsoon of unanswered prayers,
to pave a path of hope
lighted by baby fireflies
or a string of reflectors like beads traced around
the neck of a woman

but these paths are never so clear, they are lined with dark insects
and confusing markers, like beads of sweat lining
struggling brows.

He apologizes to himself for time wasted in pursuit of
brighter days – condolences passed around like trays of
strange appetizers as he breathes in the heavy air of regret.

the spine of his umbrella shakes in the storm,
leaving him undefended and
at the mercy of the elements.

silence

There is a quiet solitude in my bones
that hollows out the sound of
wind blowing through them,
rattling the soundless still with nothing more than a breeze

I am easily swayed, my bones are hollow
so they have no weight
I am however, heavy in thought and soul
the burdens of my mind press down
on my body, as though the pull
of gravity is now doubled

But perhaps there is no burden, and instead
I have found myself transported to
another planet. Mars maybe, where I am heavier naturally. And my bones
are filled with the ash of volcanic eruptions
on a surface too close to the sun

I try to account for the extra weight
I’ve found, lurking about in the corners of my shoulders,
but I cannot make the reasons into words.
The wind continues to echo in my bones, while my feet
become heavy under the burden of silence.