Undress my outer flesh to reveal fibrous blood orange texture, entwined threads that were once woven to perfection.
I ignore the number of times I arch my body forward, holding an improper posture as I ruck walk the baggage that dead hangs from my shoulders.
Heaving through exaggerated back bends, chest pressing the weights that stack high upon me, crippling under the unbalanced burden.
Elevate me.
Calloused hands slow dance along tender tendons, (come)press where I’m tight + inflexible, ease my discomfort.
Poem #THREE in the ‘heavy body…’ series.
In this poem, I describe what our bodies would say when we carry the weight of someone else’s burdens. Be mindful of the physical + emotional decline that comes when bearing the load that’s not for you to carry.
Check out parts ONE + TWO in the series.
Thanks for reading my shit. I love y’all.
peace.
alex b.
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