The weight I carry will not diet off

The weight I carry will not diet off

It is not on scales,

it is not in mirrors,

it is not in clothes

that refuse to fit.

It lives in the chest,

it breathes with me,

it walks beside me,

though no one sees.

It is silence unspoken,

it is sorrow unbroken,

it is the heaviness

memory leaves behind.

No diet will shift it,

no mirror will show it,

it bends my back

without a sound.

The body can change,

but the soul still aches,

and the weight remains,

rooted in bone.

It cannot be cut,

it cannot be lost,

it clings like shadow,

through every day.

The weight I carry

is not flesh,

it is memory,

it is grief.

And only the grave

will take it away.

Until that rest,

I walk with it still,

a shadow that lingers,

a burden of will.

It is mine alone,

yet it shapes me,

and still I rise,

though bent with it.