This was a prompt given to me by the lovely Madeleine Rains. She is a writer and a maker of amazing foods, as well as the leader of many a cleanse. She can be found here.
I have been built to carry all these things.
I carry an attempt at saving, a weight of loss, a lifeforce shared, three times over.
I carry my legs, strong still after all this time.
I carry the weight in my gut of an anxious worry. I carry lavender and lawnmowers, chickens with wobbly legs. I carry cats and sick dogs. I have been built to, I am a Mack truck of myself. I carry the clothing that stretches and clings. I carry the excitement of a camp, full of kids and freedom. I carry the childhood of the evening street lights, the hidden places in the woods. I carry hope, still, that there is something even better. I carry interruption of all sorts, the disarray of the mothering. I carry the consistency of the adult, the flawed and cracked vessel of the human.
I carry the wistfulness of the beautiful things, the knowing that I may have to throw all the rugs outside come spring, and let them become the dirt. I am built for this, this carrying. This toss.
I am built for this silent pause, this stare out the window, this barely listening focus. I am built for this. This thoughtful moment. This. Expansion and introversion. Inversion. I am built for metaphor and word play, world play.
Sigh. I am built for this rambled briar of thought. I am. The tangles we extricate ourselves from, what makes me. I am built for this. For these ideas to keep buckling and twisting. I am here for it. I am here.