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A recorded reading of “The Weight of the Living”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Holding the living in weighted palms, I cradle their fragile breaths— someone’s got to take care of them, someone’s got to keep the light from flickering out. Their hearts beat against my skin, their fears seep into my bones. I bear their burdens like stones in my pockets, each one heavier than the last. But oh, there’s a darkness gnawing at the edges of night, whispering to leave, to slip away while the world is still dreaming. Leave tonight, it says— let the dawn rise without your shadow. But how can I abandon those who look to me with eyes that plead? How can I walk away when the weight of their need pulls me deeper into this quiet abyss? Still, the night calls, soft as a lover’s sigh— leave tonight, before you forget how to breathe for yourself. So I stand on the edge, palms open, hearts still beating— wondering if it’s mercy to stay, or to go where the weight cannot follow and the stars burn without blame.
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