A Marsh
My feet still move. Though slowly, and certainly not with the same ease as before, they carry me forward.
Like Sisyphus, I have been tasked—perhaps doomed—to carry a grayness that weighs me down.
It came about one day, almost out of nowhere. I went from painting the town red—to black. Heartbreaking words said by the right person were all it took, and then the grayness settled over.
It brought my house down, my kingdom. A feeble one, perhaps, you could say. But it was mine—ours—for a while. And I was happy reigning over it. I was a king.
Until I wasn’t.
Now a king-turned-peasant, I find myself trudging about town as if the ground was wet and spongy, muddying my poorly-shod feet. Dirtied and leadened, I’m no faster than a snail.
In this marsh even the most basic movements are strenuous, if not dangerous. All because of this grayness I carry.
All because of her words.
Memories don’t help either. In fact, they slow me down even further. Not recalling the past seems to help somewhat. Yet the mental fortitude to do so is not there. Neither seems to be the willingness.
All I have left are memories. They glow under a spotlight at the center of my mind. Good times. Great times. The best of times. Why didn’t we make more memorable moments? Maybe If we’d made enough, I could live off them. A piece of bread a day, like a panhandler.
I suppose I never thought the right person would break my heart. How can the right person open you up, fill you with themselves, then throw you away? I don’t know how or why, but they can.
And they will.
Not that they want to. No. Sometimes they don’t. But they have to. Sometimes they have to because they can’t carry you along with themselves. They need to feel and be lighter. Sometimes the marsh they’re in is even swampier, and they need to get out quick, just so they can find their way back home too.
One thing is clear:
Life’s a marsh, and man a beast of burden. We’re all carrying a lot of weight—all of us. We do what we can not to falter.
So we plod along.
Halfway through this marsh,
I bow and pray it dries at last,
so I can hasten again, loved and airy,
toward the sun on her prairie.
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i loved this one. very vulnerable and raw. a lot of people can relate to this feeling of abandonment by a loved one i fear.