Hold Up the Sky

Exhausted, I wonder how much longer I can hold up the sky. If it falls, can I stitch it together with leftover pieces of skin and dreams? Once I had the intention to shape the sky, to fashion it into a circle that wrapped around a world of beauty and possibility. I have since learned that the sky is endless, that a soon as one section is up another comes down.

All of these things in my loved ones that I cannot find a way to fix. I listen, I think, I dream but they remain immovable. I push against them, cutting myself. Yet even blood is not enough. (Blood is never enough.) Another day ticks by. A different pair of shoes, a glimpse of a bare shoulder. The clouds I can handle, but the rain has been endless. My body absorbs the water and the sky sinks a little more. For a moment I curse the uselessness of my hands as I prop one corner up while watching another slip.

I am so very, very tired.