what’s been holding you
Let the body speaks first.
Not in grand declarations —
just a slow drag across the shoulders
after too many hours upright,
the way a tightening throat
swallows when you’ve more days
than you meant to,
that small tremor of hands
that keeps asking you
to set something down.
It has been the one in your room
while you hurried past yourself.
Now it waits, steady,
as if to say:
start here,
with what carries weight,
with what has been holding you
longer than you realised.
.
