Were I to stop and set this burden down,
I’d no doubt be relieved in many ways;
But always still, I carry it around,
A part of my identity in ways
Too hard for me to fathom, when I try –
For I’ve become the trouble I decry —

Were I to throw away the weight of care,
I’m sure I would feel lighter, heaven knows:
But my mind constantly returns to where
I am most likely to view only woes,
As though conflict defines my very life,
And I am only visible ‘mid strife —

My grandson knocks, and I become aware
He sees no burden, only Grandpa there

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

2 thoughts on “Burden”

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