It should have been mercy.
It should have been respect.
It should have been enough to know that I was hanging on your tiny threads.
You could have been quiet.
You could have been a voice.
You could have been anything other than the hands against my back.
And I'm in an in between.
I'm leaning against the doorpost.
I'm watching the cars move by and nothing much is changing.
Didn't you feel the breeze turn into a hurricane?
Didn't you notice the tremor become an earthquake?
Everything crumbled and you kept on trudging.
Disaster cried out and you kept on blaming.
I leaned into the earth and felt it swallow me.
You cupped handfuls of dirt and let it trickle down over me.
It should have been, but it wasn't.
You could have been, but you weren't.
Is the heart of weary, the face of broken, the fingers that let go.