When I am Afraid of Relief

When Carrying Other People's Pain becomes my Identity

there is a lump in my throat,

my heart

and a weight that flattens my spirit.

On the hippity hop- waiting until dark.

pillows to the window like stones in a river

- dont make the floor board creek-

but get to the window so you can watch for him.

Don't have fun, joy needs to be brought to reality.

its not realistic to be happy.

There is so much suffering in the world.

I will be hurt if I feel happy -when the nameless one is hurting; it will do horrible things to joy...to me.

In the room with checkered wall paper.

Everything goes blank

I am numb

Do I even have a body any more?

Happy, Joyful, Radiant- ?

Maybe Love is not measured by how much I carry.