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THE
WEIGHT OF SORROW
Soft,
now
tender
is the weight of sorrow,
the
ever present burden
soul
sore to touch, but waiting
needing
love's caress
gentle
fingertips trickling down the spine,
each
vertebra tingling, greedy for the mark
left
by finger's print on sweatslick skin
Still,
now
tender
is the weight of sorrow
aching
my swirling thoughts,
plump,
heavy fruit dripping slowly from the
vine
like
dewdrops sliding from early-morning
blades
of grass
winter
petals towards frozen earth
once
again I submit to the pull of loves lost
once
again I fall, unwilling, unable to resist
Softly,
now, I surrender.
Shallom
Onele Ruth Ly