You Can Put it Down Now by Jacquelynn Lyon

You Can Put It Down Now
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You can put it down now. I know you’ve been carrying this around like a martyr trying to remember God’s face by finding the bottom of punishment and burrowing to heaven through suffering. You can put it down now.

The grass does not mind. Though it may bow its heads under the weight, it can still accept your burdens trapped in the tar pits of your chest, the ones you’ve been told are yours alone to swallow and choke on. You can put it down now.

The waters do not mind. Though they grow darker from the sediment they can still sweep away the heaviness that you’ve trapped like shackles to your own image. Never good enough. Strong enough. Whole enough. You can put it down now.

​The shadows do not mind. Though they are feared as limbs of the shrouded secret world they can still hide your face and the many wounds of words yet faded. It is not for weakness that they cover you, but for strength to fight another day. You can put it down now.

I do not mind. My friend, the day is long, and the world is ever-changing, you are not here to shoulder it alone as if pain is the most shameful thing to witness. I do not mind your hand in mine and do not mind that we are here together and not smiling.

Rest with me awhile, show me all the ways in which you’ve grown in twisted and I’ll show you a thousand people that are better for their crooked pieces. Gardens are not beautiful for their perfection, but for the fact that they are still grasping for the sunlight after each and every winter.

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Jacquelynn Lyon is an emerging author in fiction and poetry. She spent the last year teaching English as a foreign language in South Korea and now has returned home to Boulder Colorado to spend more time with her cat. She is dedicated to writing about anything that fills her with wonder.

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