Cataract Poem by Amberlee Carter

walking down the narrow path
that split like a snake's tongue
in the canyon's mouth,
with the weight of our bodies
mostly heavy on our heels
to keep from tumbling head first,
we talked of how the grief in our hearts
was far heavier, far more exhausting
to hold ourselves upright, against the gravity (another word for love)
that grounds us-
but then sorrow is often like that,
and perhaps our lives are best summed up by
an impalpable obesity.
I once believed that, until
he laughed at my rationality,
and asked me if that's why on certain days
I wear thick mascara and dark eye-liner,
to hide myself from the disaster (another word for devil)

then he was bewildered when told him:
'no, on those days I do it because I'm hiding from god'
(another word for self)