All my life I’ve been led
to believe that I have
to move
at a frantic
pace
chasing invisible
rigid
dead
lines.
Society etched it in my marrow:
it’s all for the sake of keeping up
with demands I never put to question.
But how dare you
hold space
for the parts of me
that were always told to hurry?
Time
has its way of easing up
when I’m with you
as if the world forgets to rush
and everything goes by
in a blur.
While all that ever matters is you—
simply being here
close enough to hear
the labored breaths that escape
from my lips
in tremor.
You extend your arm
to reach for my shoulder
as you inch your way closer
I feel the grip with such gentleness
I almost mistake it for something else.
I thought all I needed
was a constant pat on the back,
to incessantly keep moving forward.
No matter how much my feet
begged me to halt
in exchange for a fleeting pause.
But your touch made all the difference
it doesn’t push me ahead
it makes me feel the ground
beneath
my feet.
It makes me notice my trembling legs
that can no longer
support the weight of everything
I have been carrying all alone.
