The guilt in your bones only weighs you down.
I'd like to twist them open and pour it out
like boulders on the mountain rolling heavily down.

But my hand cannot take the weight of burden,
though it will try to guide you. If you would pay attention
you could feel the air grow light or heavy at your own discretion.

I'll wait for you to feel the boulders rolling down your skin.
As they pool around your ankles, the heavy burden will be shed.
But only you will know when it is time to make amends.

So I resist the urge to purge you of the glass that you've been breathing.
Move too quick and lose you in the darkness of the season-
but: there is no suffering so great it cannot be forgiven.

I'd like to scrub your bones clean and prop you up to dry.
Let the mountain air remind you of the strength that slipped your mind.