Something in me is exhausted. Tired of Waiting. Hoping. Trying. It says, “It’s too much. I can’t anymore. I’m exhausted.”
I tell it that I can really hear that. I can sense how tired it is.
“It’s so heavy,” it tells me.
Yes, I can sense how heavy it is for you.
Inside my body it feels like an effort to breathe freely and tears come unbidden.
“I can’t carry it any more. I just can’t,” it says.
Yes. I understand.
I sit with it. It can’t muster the energy to move one more inch.
I sense into the whole of this inside me and it feels like someone who’s been walking days, weeks, years maybe, eyes fixed on the mirage of water up ahead. Every so often there’s a bit of water, enough to keep this figure going, hoping for the big water. But now it’s exhausted. And it can’t move another step. Right now it has simply collapsed.