.

To what do we owe
this canvas knapsack of fears
draped heavily upon our back,
bringing shoulders to a tipping point
Weighted of decisions to be made and
thoughts which haunt when we are alone

Straps cut into tender flesh,
scars build where smooth skin once slept
now bedded down by burdens
in an uncomforting fabric,
warm but dark and painful
as nighttime brings a solitude of tears

Wishes find four wall deterrents,
though from a southern facing window
a light penetrates the anguished fog,
illuminating this room of desperation,
inviting glances to find
that of which smiles are born

Now as we find our hearts migrating
past curtained weeping patterns,
reaching for the glowing affection
whispering on blissful breezes,
soothing longings of safe arms
to hold us in this time of need

Run with every speed to this view,
calling of moonbeams and star dust
careful not to trip over the worries
cast aside to the floor beneath your bed
where they shall remain hidden
behind a door now locked by love

To what do we owe
this canvas knapsack of fears?
Only ourselves if we continue
to look behind at what was instead of
casting our eyes forward on what is now offered
just outside that southern facing window of opportunity