That’s what they said your heart weighs.
The Fates, withered now: so few believe in them they get caught in the shifting sands of faith and story.
Weighed your still heart: kept beating too long, I think.
I hope they found it lighter, placed on that pewter scale.
I hope that last cryptic message gave you the peace you needed and that you took a clean slate with you for them to write your eternity upon.
Lighter than a feather, your still heart: soft, and pale in some distant gloom: some anemic sunset.
I forgive you your trespasses, if that’s what you needed.
I forgive you your storms and your absence and your withdrawal from anything that felt like connection: it was all too sharp and you knew every edge of that thin blade.
I’m glad your heart is still, now. And your soul with it. I am glad you don’t suffer anymore: I know you wonder and let me reassure you, it’s worth the expense. The grief is heavy, but it does get better with time. The darkness you carried might never have.
No comments:
Post a Comment