It might float behind me
a dark cloud, billowing and weightless
but somehow heavy, a storm within
below, above, around me
obscuring bright reality
Or maybe it does have weight
a thick, oozing sludge
swallowing me from toes to throat
consuming me, a dark heavy morass
sticking to every part of me
No wonder I'm exhausted
choked off from the current
of ordinary life, observing
the daily thrum and cadence
of everyone around me
except those others
whose own grief clings
to burdened heels