Talismen Poem by grace mariner

We carry our dead upon our backs.
Old skins protecting us from the new.
These talisman provide us no magic, no fortune.
All grief and sadness, they are
rank with decay that only our hearts can sense.
We tire from their weight, pulling us backwards
to tragic times.
I am fearless.
I will fight bravely and perish quickly.
It is as it should be for one whose heart rules their actions.
I am soft, lacking sharp edges,
except perhaps my tongue.
I would carry your burden with mine although weary.
I am nearing the end of my wanderings with
more behind than ahead.
I will cover you, comfort you, and never
ever harm you.
I will take that task upon my fearless self.