Unburdened

You’re not the cloth for every spill,
Not every grief deserves to fill,
Some stories beg to stain your thread,
But don’t absorb what should be said.

Be less the shore that clings to tide,
More canyon carved from what’s denied,
Let words pass through like foreign wind,
Unless they blossom from within.

You are not ruins left to rust,
But the gold inside the gathered dust,
What tried to fade you lit your fire,
And carved you clean of their desire.

Cathrine Hottran 2025