March

Around this time

every year

it becomes hard to support

the weight of so many

It's been a long winter of

brave face,

hard nose,

lean heavy on the grindstone

and into the wind

Gravity pulls and at some point the weight

of my body

gets tired

of fighting back against the weight

of their souls,

the bricks and mortar that hold me up

turn out to have been made

of ice

and cotton candy

all along

and are beginning to melt

with the thaw.

Time goes faster and faster,

you see,

and we are flung far by centrifugal force and the force

of their imminent flight

into the unknown.

Their temerity and tenuousness hits us

and chips us,

a bowling ball meeting the sidewalk

from seven flights up.

The unknowingness grates

and pushes,

knowing that so many

are expecting answers,

solutions to futures we

pretend to control.

The burden of faith.

They bestow more trust than

we have in ourselves.

They wait for miracles not

reasonable to expect

from one person's strength divided

among so many.

And so but for their faith in us

and unyielding eyes always

looking up,

we wouldn't be able to

squeeze

this blood

from these stones.