in which she imagines how it would feel to put down the weight of the world….

I sat on the lumpy edge
of my bed this morning

hair twisted into a towel
clothes for the day
in a gray and blue pile
tired. so tired.
too tired to prevent 
the thought

“my heart is breaking.
dying would be such a relief.”

today is no different 
than yesterday

when I had no such

its just today
the mask 

my stoic stance

compared to so many
women in the world 
my life is easy

so, now I’m piling 
guilt and shaming 
on top of 

why must I prove my 
right to be brokenhearted?

why can’t I let the world see
when I’m unsure?

what if - for just one day - 
I stepped
out of my

what if I simply lay down
and let the leaves
cover me?

would that make me a failure?

and what if I laid it down 
for more than a day?

what if I surrendered?

would that make me 
a disappointment?

and what if I
let the smiling mask 

what then?

what if the face
I turned to yours
was a face full of 

perhaps even a face
etched with despair

a face disillusioned
and unsure

what then?

because, today,
that is what is written
on my face.

carved deeply in the 
lines around my useless-feeling

engraved around my 
welling eyes. 

bearing down on 
my bowed head.

a lifetime of holding
up when all I 
wanted was to 
let go

what happens
when that’s
the face I
show you?

what then?

© 2017 Tracie Nichols
All rights reserved.

8 Replies to “in which she imagines how it would feel to put down the weight of the world….”

  1. Then is when we can best love you, we women who also despair. Love you and hold you and pour out what strength we have together. A strength that grace transforms into ease as we weep, and drum and rise up to dance together.


  2. Then I love you and cherish you still. More. Because my mask is also slipping, and I’m finding that I no longer even care to hold on to it. We can cry together. Then, we can stand – again – together. ❤ ❤ ❤


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