This hurt is like a boulder.
I am stooped from the weight of it.
I can't move, I can't remember my life
before the crush of it.
Take this boulder and make it smaller.
Something I can lift off me
for a moment so I can breathe.
Take this boulder and make it a stone
I can hold it in both hands,
small enough to walk while carrying it.
Let it get even smaller as the days pass.
A stone you could skip across a lake,
watching the water ripple as it flew.
There are so many stones on the shore,
some small enough to fit in a pocket. Some
sharp edged. Some smoothed down from
a constant worrying rub.
Take this stone and make it even smaller.
A pebble.
No doubt there will be stones in time.
But for now, make this as small as a pebble.
I can carry a pebble.
The Weight by Susan Moorhead | Sandalwood Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$15.00Price
Susan Moorhead writes poetry and stories in New York. Her work has been nominated multiple times for a Pushcart prize and has appeared in Panoply, Swing, Braided Way, Cider Press Review, and Autumn Sky Poetry, among others. Her poetry collections are The Night Ghost and Carry Darkness, Carry Light. You can find her on Instagram @susanincognito. A librarian by trade, she is happy to always be surrounded by books.
