There’s a burden upon the depths of my soul;
I’ve been struggling to name it.
It’s complex. It’s heavy.
Like an anchor, pulling me down.
I’m wearing of carrying it.
Stopping to rest – to switch my slipping, stinging hands.
I’ll stretch my back a moment,
But take not a step forward without picking it up again.
There’s a burden upon the depths of my soul;
Something to do with grief.
Something about the nature of life.
Something about the reality of death.
Centered within my very being,
Like a heavy pack upon my chest;
Like a weight I can’t quite pull up to carry more comfortably,
Sometimes it’s hard to breathe.
There’s a burden upon the depths of my soul;
I’m still not sure what it’s made of,
But I’ve come to realize
It’s a watering can
Rusty, large,
An overflowing bucket, sloshing out messily
As I struggle to carry it onward.
Where am I going with it, I cannot say.
But somehow my skirts are wet with the spilling,
Yet the container never seems to empty a drop.
There’s a burden upon the depths of my soul.
I’ve been struggling to name it.
It’s complex. It’s heavy.
It feels like death to carry it,
Yet somehow I know
It’s ever full to the brim with life.
There’s a burden upon the depths of my soul.
Oh God, let me never let it go.
May I carry it to till my dying breath
And pour out life like tears on a mother’s face
after she buries her son.
7/20/26
-G&P,
SF
Cotton Ribbons 