may continue
to grow
heavy
and tired
and old,
I'd be willing
to bet
that your eyes
will not.
Because,
no matter what
you have been through—
no matter
the unconscionable things
you have thought—
I have watched them
hold tight to
their little dots
of truth:
not that life
is too precious
a thing
to ever stop
protecting,
but that it's
fickle
and unsteady
and too erratic
not to shoulder—
and yet
far too fragile
to ever
let drop.
