A Quiet Weight
it’s the hum of the fridge
at 3 a.m.,
the distant bark of a dog
you’ll never meet,
the streetlight spilling its orange glow
onto a sidewalk
that leads nowhere in particular.
you exist
but not in the way
a tree exists—
rooted, purposeful,
reaching always upward.
you’re the leaf
that forgot how to hold on.
the universe doesn’t ask
why you’re here;
it just spins,
indifferent,
while you stand at the edge of the sink,
watching water drip
and wondering
if that’s all there is—
the falling, the landing,
the waiting for another drop.
some days,
you think you feel it—
the connection, the spark.
you buy bread,
you hold a door open,
you laugh at something stupid on TV.
but it slips away
like sand through a fist
you didn’t mean to clench.
and maybe that’s the point:
to hold nothing,
to sit with the weight of everything,
to stare into the fridge light
and see only
what’s missing.
Copyright © Dufflite Xetaw | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment