Have you ever
carried the world
and not known it?
Went on with your
life, without care?
Collecting stones,
shining pebbles,
weighing pearls.

When you can't feel the mountains protruding from your back,
The
waves
crashing behind
your eyes,
storms
                 brewing
                                    in your ears;
the devil in your head,
and the angel in your heart.

When you don't know
they're there, you grow
envious of
other people's
treasures. They lug
heavy buckets
of stones, pebbles,
and pearls while
it seems you own
a small pouch that
is worth nothing.

So you spend your days at the river,
collecting stones,
                 shining pebbles,
                              weighing pearls.
With some, they can see
                                          the storm coming;
                                                         ­                                               hear the thunder
before the lightning strikes.
With me,
it was
a pebble,
a shiny pebble that
                                                            ­                                                       jumped
from its bucket,
flew up: past the angel, devil, oceans, and storms, landed on the mountains and crushed
me
under its weight.
The mountains shook and
crumbled from the weight,
the
waves
crashing and
churning –
overflowing.
The storms
                       made me
                                                              ­                 deaf
but I can still hear
the devil screaming
and feel the angel dying.

I have no choice
but to proceed
to lug heavy
buckets of stones,
and of pebbles,
and of pearls
while the other
people go on
without a care;
with a small pouch
that is worth so
much – that I’d die
to hold again.