There are always burdens
to bare across your struggling
shoulders, always troubles
to furrow your brow.
There are always people that
will not like you for reasons
you can’t really fathom, maybe
they judge, maybe they’re jealous.
There are always things that pile
up, that stack themselves in places
you weren’t even aware of, in corners,
on tables, in hearts and minds.
There are always muddy traps to
slow you down, make you drag your
feet and strain to pull your heavy legs
There are always dissenters, liars,
mean hearts, bullish bullies, coarse
types, and those that cannot believe
you are anything more than you once were.
There are always beasts lying in wait,
hidden in plain sight, in the eyes of
lovers, family, friends, strangers and
the dreams of unrequited passion.
There are always deniers, the doubters,
the show me the crucifixion wounds,
the non-believers, the unmakers, the
wreckers and the breakers.
They’re always in the way, sometimes
outside, sometimes inside, in your head,
in your own heart, in your words, in the
places you don’t like to go.
And sometimes, they won’t let you
finish a poem on a positive note.