I understand it now.
Why some never return,
Why their steps grow distant,
Why loneliness feels lighter than the weight of home.
The deliberate missteps,
The crushing expectations,
The sharp legacy of pain passed down to me,
The years it took.
On some days, it’s all too heavy to even think about.
The thoughts rise and fall,
Like waves of truths I wasn’t prepared to face.
I think of it often. I think of how…
I wasn’t ready to grow into this skin,
To become a woman before my time.
Yet somehow, I carry the burdens that others leave behind.
Too young in body, too young in mind,
Still, I shoulder it all—alone.
Some are trapped in youth,
Young in mind but not in body,
Blind to the price of sacrifice.
Or maybe that’s just the story I tell myself.
Maybe it’s not ignorance, but choice.
Choosing freedom, refusing the weight I bear,
This weight that has me running,
The weight of becoming someone else.
It stretches the distance between us,
A constant reminder of what I am not.
I hope this weight is Your work,
Your faithfulness revealing itself in time.
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