The Weight I Call Love. Poem by WIN VENTURA

They call it duty, quiet and pure,
But never ask what I endure.
A silent chain, a chosen bind,
That wraps itself around my mind.

It came to me without a sound,
Then made my life its sacred ground.
A hand to hold, a price to pay,
A life that never walks away.

No mercy in its steady hand,
No pause, no place to understand.
Just keep on giving, keep on whole,
While breaking slowly in the soul.

They name it love, they call it grace,
But never see the empty space...
It carves inside a beating chest,
Where even sleep forgets to rest.

And still I stand, and still I stay,
Through nights that steal my breath away.
No applause, no saving sign—
Just endless, you must still be fine.
The weight I call love, ❤️
But, they say its karma from divine! !

So tell me, God, if this is mine,
This road I walk, this endless line—
How much of me is meant to bend
Before the weight begins to end?

Yet here I am, though worn, though torn,
Still carrying what I have borne.
Not weak — but forged in silent pain,
A strong soul that learns to rise again and again...

By: - WIN VENTURA