prose poem: Leigh QM
Weight lighter, space available
This week a weight on my shoulders was lightened, perhaps on the way to be lifted. It’s the “Women's Health unknown problem” weight. You know - the weight that sits next to the “Everyday Women’s Health” weight and the “Am I doing enough for my children?” weight. We women know the weight we carry, the weight we add, the weight we don’t dislodge. We women believe that our back is broad, that the task at hand requires our focus and energy - forget thyself.
I can clearly remember it being placed, just 2 weeks previously. It was when I rose from the examining table, after being prodded, poked, stretched and scrapped.
“Just sit here for a moment”, she said. “You might feel light-headed.”
“Ok.” voice wobbling.
“You ok?” she asked.
“Yes” cracks beginning to form in the one word answer.
“Are you sure?” she probed again.
“Yes” This time stronger in voice, but with tears already flowing. “I’m just scared. I know what will be, will be. I can’t change it. Just scared and worried. How can I fit this in, into my already full life. There is no space.”
I sat there, covering myself with that starchy stiff sheet and cried.
Then I stopped, breathed in and stood up. The weight was already there, squeezing in between the existing weights that I have put onto myself. As I stood, I literally physically readjusted my shoulders to carry this burden.
about the author: leigh QM
Leigh, who meanders through life, flowing strong at times, but petering to a trickle at others. Leigh, a uniquely individual global community member, who always says yes to a glass of wine.
