Her Bags Were Heavy: So I Carried Them and I Carried Her Too

I touch your things gently, and with love.

I fold them tenderly; stopping to pull them in,

I bury my face in them, and I inhale.

Like fire and honey all at once.

So are you.

Thorns on roses,

So are you.

I fold, and smell and remember.

I tuck, and I stuff your stuff in this bag.

My heart encased by heavy weights,

I seal you away in this heavy bag.

I spray the bag with fruity mists.

There are things I want-

NO.

There are things I need them to know about you when they open this bag.

You are more.

You are more than what they see and what they think.

You are more.

And probably less.

It’s ironic,

That your bag should be so neat and organized and put together.

While you are not.

Your socks are folded neatly in half.

Your toes were so pointed and poised in those socks.

Like a ballerina.

You are not a ballerina.

Nor are you your mistakes.

Others will judge you by your mistakes.

You mustn’t let that define you.

I sort, and sort, and sort, and come across letters from him with your name stained on each one.

The letters on the yellow paper that come from inside bars, and cells, and regret.

I run my hand across your name and the neat cursive it’s written in.

If only life were not rigid and messy and hard, but rather,

Rounded and folded and sealed and safe like this letter.

I know what you’ve tried to hide within.

I know those neatly crossed ‘t’s’ and dotted ‘I’s’ make your little heart beat with pain that is bigger than it can hold.

And I feel sorry.

Sorry that I wasn’t less.

Less of a tucker, less of a burrier, less of a burden to your growth.

I sort, and fold, and tuck, and pack.

Touching each item, I try to burn my love in your things,

So, when you open your bag you will feel my love.

If I could tuck words into this bag they would be this:

I love you. You are strong.

You are strong like your hands that held the weight of your body upside down.

Now so will I.

I will hold your weight and give you my strength until you find yours.

I will raise my voice until you find yours so that you will get what you need.

I will carry us both, not on my hands because that is your forte, not mine.

But I will carry us, even when the soles on my shoes wear thin and my feet bleed.

I will carry on, carrying you until harm is far behind you.

You will be folded, and tucked, and sealed in my love.

And I will love you- for both of us.

And my heart will be the life blood for us both.

And my lungs will be the breath for us both.

And I will have carried you in my body twice.

I will have delivered you to life once more.

Only, this time your bags are heavier, but I will carry them too.

While we walk down the healing path we will throw things out of your bags together.

We will discard all the garbage, and shame, and blame, because those things have no place here.

And when your bags are empty, your footing will be steady,

And I’ll have watched you learn to walk on your own once again.

With your heart unburdened and untainted, and as pure as it was-

This birth, you are all the wiser, and your legs are as strong.