Weighted Blanket
a prose poem
All I want is to feel better. I want to tell myself the lie that everything is going to be okay, and I want to believe it. But hope flickers and flashes, short circuits. And everything I try and plan explodes before it ever gains traction.
Day by day routines are crushed, as if under a weighted blanket that is tangled in my feet, keeping me from my next step. I am tired. So tired of the one step forward two steps back dance.
So tired of waiting for someone or something to take the cover off the manhole to leave me falling like an aimless Alice desperately grasping at the bottles on the wall. Looking for one to bring me the light of day or the strength to fold the blanket in the corner where it can’t weigh me down. Where it can’t trip me up. Where I can’t be crushed.
I want to pull the drawstring on my backpack. Release the parachute. Float gingerly. Rock with the current. Ride the wind far enough forward to look behind me with real perspective. Off in the open sky, not reaching land until it finally lies solid below me.
Gretchen Lee Bourquin obtained a Bachelor’s Degree in Literature/Creative Writing in another life. She worked in disability care, customer service, and education administration — and as a single mom of two, now-grown, kids- before delving into freelancing as a content writer. After a hiatus and more conventional ventures, she’s making her way back. Subscribe here to join the journey.
