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This week, we present responses to the challenge, Burden. Describe a character who feels like they are carrying a heavy burden of some kind until they figure out a way forward that will ease their journey.
By Isabelle Chen
Age 15, Bradford, Vt.
She carried something invisible to the human eye —
something that made her shoulders sag a bit more each day,
something that made her eyes droopy with tiredness.
Yet she kept moving on with that thing in her hands,
going across mountains and over lakes,
never knowing what or where her destination was.
She thought, “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” and no longer she did.
She came to a realization not too long afterward
that the weight wasn’t hers to carry in the first place.
So now as she crosses mountains, she skips with each step,
sometimes even jumping high enough to touch the clouds drifting by.
As for the lakes, the currents seem to have a shine on them
she’d never seen before, beautiful and serene.
As she starts to notice the little things and take bigger steps,
the thing in her hands becomes lighter and more tolerable than before.
And most importantly, she has an idea about where to go —
for the burden is no longer hers to hold.
By Kaden Perry
Age 15, Bradford, Vt.
He felt like a burden to all he was around.
He felt this way a lot, whether it was true or not.
Maybe he was blind to his reality;
perhaps there was much he was missing.
Regardless he lived his life in wonder,
wondering how much he was blind to
or whether he was really blind at all.
His feelings were strong,
but his dedication to showing a lack of them was stronger.
He didn’t understand why he put on such a show —
there was no reason to continue the act.
But if he revealed his true feelings,
would they be too revealing?
Would that make people think differently?
Would that be negative or positive?
He wished he had the answers.
He could sense them just beyond his grasp,
but his mind was torn — he hated the way he overthought.
Nobody, of course, could know that he questioned himself.
Why, as far as the people in his life saw him, he knew it all —
when he himself knew the least.
He wished more people knew the way he felt,
even while hating himself for the way he did.
He knew that the day he expressed himself
would be the day he truly found himself.
By Abby Carson
Age 14, Newbury, Vt.
One step after another.
I can’t … I can’t go on.
Can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t see.
All I see is black, and all I feel is a heavy weight,
like cinderblocks tied to my ankles.
Why did I do that? How could I have hurt them?
I tried to apologize to make it better,
but it was too late — things can never be the same.
All trust is gone now, and for what?
I fall. It feels like forever, falling
into this deep, dark hole that is my mind.
There is no living past this point,
for life is over — I ruined everything.
But then … I hear it, quiet at first
but then louder and louder: a familiar voice.
“I’m here. It’s okay. Breathe.”
I run toward the voice as fast as my leaden legs will go.