The Weight Of My World

In a poem by Bradley J. Nordell, he said, “The creak of an old house isn’t just wood settling, but the tiredness of being.” I felt those words so deep down it wasn’t just bone-deep, it was soul-deep.

Trauma, especially when drawn out or repeated, has a way of leaving you with the feeling that the weight of the world rests solely upon your shoulders. Even if it’s not the world in its entirety, it’s the more immediate world in which you or I reside.

The weight feels crushing.

My knees creak beneath the weight

Which has been hefted upon my shoulders.

The burdens I carry are enormous

Evergrowing.

.

In my youth, there were those who weighted me down,

Their mistakes, their burdens, and their sorrows became my own.

They bestowed these burdens upon me

As if they were somehow a gift to be shared.

I was to believe that their sharing of such things, meant they cared.

Instead, I felt overwhelmed.

.

Unsteady,

Never ready,

For what was to come,

Nor for what I’d had to endure.

My childhood was a time in which everything should have remained pure.

I always viewed happiness as something just out of reach, my long-sought-after cure.

.

Always running, yet stuck in place.

To look at me, you’d never know by the smile on my face.

I was told to bottle it up, don’t let it out,

Never show a trace.

If you’re upset, sad, worried, ears filled with the sound of your heart’s race,

Well, just keep smiling and keep up with the pace.

No matter what you’re going through, not a hair should be out of place.

.

Be strong, persevere, you’ll make it through.

Drowning inside, can’t allow any of the rivulets to seep out.

Be what everyone else needs, that’s what you must do.

Someday you’ll have a go, right now it’s not about you.

You must exceed everyone’s expectations,

No aspirations of your own.

They have your path chosen, even when you're long past grown.

.

I grew tired of this,

Soul weary and done.

Sought joy in helping others,

In ways that I could improve the world.

Soon, I’d encounter the injustices and heap those upon my plate.

Determined to help, to right every wrong,

If nothing else, my past had taught me how to be strong.

.

Our world needs vast improvement, so why not fight for such change?

Little did I know that such dedication would put me in their range.

I wanted a better world for those young and old,

For future generations to have something that they could cherish and hold.

.

The response was unlike any I’d ever imagined. Cold

Beyond belief.

The joy I’d found in my life,

My reason for fighting, it was all ripped away.

Now, I’m still fighting, but not for the good of humanity,

The future of our planet, nor social justice as a whole.

No, I live to fight for all that’s mine.

.

Justice and reunification are my only goals.

Internally I wished that I could go back in time.

Gather my evidence, expose all the wrongs,

I’d change every mind,

You’d be back where you belong.

.

For now, I live to fight another day,

At times I stumble beneath the weight of it all.

Knees creaking, limbs straining, back-breaking,

Yet ever onward I go.

This forward march is all I know.

. . .

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This poem was originally published on Medium.