Echoes of the Deep

The Things We Carried

What we held was filled with light,

With things that made us smile

In the afternoon delight;

Smiles bounced from every cheek

As that light drifted

Through the afternoon eve.

But after all the strife

That soon became forced

Into our arms,

Light turned dark

In the cover of harm.

When voices were piercing

And malice coated their space,

Filled with insults

And laced with hate,

What we carried turned dark:

After the world lost its heart;

Delight's light grew dim

With anxiety raging in the wind

Protection was needed

For those soon to fall -

So darkness rose up

And morphed into a wall,

The only protection

Against people in a brawl;

Overtime our arms became sore,

Exhausted from the burden

Of darkness beginning to mesh

With our soul to a sword;

The things we carried

Fused to our arms like

Sars stitched to the world

Above our backyards:

Becoming protection against voices

That endlessly fly by,

In an endless pursuit

Of a once clear sky.

The things we carry

Aren't meaningless attachments

We can't let go of;

It's a shield for the battle

In a place we used to behold of.