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Weightless

Submitted by Kelly Ann Wilson on Tue, 2024-06-25 22:21

Weightless
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

What if every ounce of pain
Rose out of my body
And dispersed into the atmosphere
Where it wouldn’t be too much
For one being to hold

What if I find the balance
Of gentle compassion
And requisite accountability
So that I count too
At least as much as he does

What if I hold it in the forefront of my mind
That my mom and dad
Were so young
And took on so much
And built everything we had
With their own hands

What if I find where I left myself
And who I was really meant to be
Before this wicked world moulded me
Into something it could tolerate
And rule

What if I get another chance
Now that I have figured it out
And I never go back there again
To the shy and timid fawn
But instead, I spend my days
Being wild and brave

What if one day
I am an old woman
With lines on my face
Floating in a cool northern lake
Weightless

Written June 25, 2023
© 2024 Kelly Ann Wilson

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
Read my writer’s blog at https://kwilsonarts.wordpress.com
Editing stage: 
Editing - polished draft
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Geezer

Wed, 2024-06-26 07:35

Geezer's picture
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to be a tenuous thread that sews together, the wanting to find yourself
and the realization that you have been held back by a relationship that is not in your best interest,
but I wish that you had made it clearer who it is you are speaking of. Yes, I have had thoughts of finding myself
and floating in a cool northern lake, weightless. [I don't have to imagine the lines in my face]. I suppose that as we
age and find that the world has molded us into something, we ask what? Are we satisfied with what we have been molded into?
I suspect that very few of us have. Great work; other than acknowledging that little bit of your flypaper. ~ Geez.
.

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Leslie

Wed, 2024-06-26 21:45

Leslie's picture

I feel that you are worthy of compassion and in the light of your burdens bare no accountability. My favorite lines are in the fourth stanza "before this wicked world molded me into something it could tolerate and rule."

All of God's children singing, holding hands in the rain!

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