Poetry

under the weight

Jillian Arsenault — November 5th, 2022

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It felt like the ceiling was caving in

I sat crouched in the basement

No room to stand

Breathing dust and mildew, arms stretched up, fingers holding the floor from collapsing

Dirt falling through the cracks, stinging my eyes

I couldn’t see

Like a fish in the ocean that doesn’t know it’s in the ocean

This had become the truth I knew

We adapt when we have to, over time

Until the moment the weight becomes too heavy

The foundation, against your own will and grit, collapses

And you lie there, in the debris

Grieving

That despite everything you endured, the house was always going to fall

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