Father I,

S-s-s...

I remember one of my earliest poems i ever wrote in university, it went like:

it's like everyday that i fail to pray,
i went astray...

it was a longer poem than this excerpt, but truly no truer words.

Father, i struggle
i juggle tasks...
i'm burdened, 
everything feels urgent...

Time does a lot, i’ve learnt that. Good and bad.

i've so learnt
to let the bother of another become mine
to feel for and with people
to 'rollercoast' side by side with them
to feel
to experience people's turbulence
to have it all almost transferred
to lift a load, 
bear a weight that was never mine to carry
nothing that i was obligated to do, yet obliged as though indebted
i've learnt to hurt with the broken
to bear and share pain
to see my forehead crease
to age,
 to crack,
to break under the weight of everyone else but myself
to be an empath, to intercede
this
is what it means 
to me


Father, I struggle...