the woman and the weight of the world

by Kristen Sottos

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Every morning the woman wakes up and hoists up the weight of the world 

A weight she can never put down.

She picks up every scrap of ugly on the ground and places it into the sack on her back, 

every time she leans down to pick a piece up, 

The weight of the bag makes it even harder to stand back up and keep walking. 

She experiences every little evil of this world 

like knives in the bag that stab her back as she walks. 

She lets the knives pierce her skin day, after day, year after year, 

Yet, she does not build a stronger back or empty out her sack. 

Why? Does she feel she deserves this pain? Will this pain make people love her? 

She feels the weight of the responsibility for the world’s hurt

The woman doesn’t look up to see the sun shining 

She doesn’t look around to see the people walking with her 

We plead with her, we beg her, to stop picking up the evil but she cannot hear.

And yet when it is time to open her sack of sadness,

I falter and freeze. 

I shudder thinking about reaching into her mind and scraping out all the 

hurt, anguish, and deep sadness. 

It terrifies me. 

I want to be strong enough to pick up her sack and wear it for at least a short time 

but I am not, and I cannot, 

I wish I could but I stop myself every single time.

And so I walk beside her with love and hope that I try to stuff into her sack with the hope she will one day hear me. 

I walk beside her because at least I know she is still walking on.