Answers

An answer is like a weight falling from the sky.
It never looks where it’s going,
Doesn’t matter where it’s been,
It’s your weight now, and that’s what counts.
Slowed by two failing arms,
Hindered but not stopped.
It presses, harder, harder.
Your heels dig deep into the earth,
An inch down, now two.
You grind your teeth,
You grimace with determination,
Each heartbeat is a canon,
Fleeting cries of lost victory.
Breathing becomes a chore.
The air is sand and dirt and gravel.
Your eyes are darkening,
Light is choked by poisonous night.
Your footing is lost and at last the weight falls,
And in a passing thought,
You wonder why it takes so long.
Until you see a hand by yours,
An arm reaching alongside you,
And the face of friend,
Holding your weight,
And telling you to breathe.