The Weight Poem by James Mills
The Weight
Rating: ★4.9
Why does the thin, grey strand
of tendril memory
floating unbroken, undetached,
why does it trouble me?
Ah, do you understand,
that what I must carry
is the motherlode of my malady,
the dust and ash of used to be,
that smoulders, and is fanned
by these old, grey cares?
When all that I pray
is sometimes that it let me be.
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4/26/2024 5:20:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
