The weight of materialism
It cut at my hands,
The heavy load slicing my flesh,
It inflicted its damage on me,
pulling me down,
my heart would have felt heavy had it not already drowned in my helpless acceptance that it was my own dark powers that had done this,
the wicked weight was the burden of my own desire.
Had I not packed this heavy,
I would not be broken by the wreckage it has made of my body,
Like I had been lashed with a whip a million times,
each one the voice of something i had packed
"did you need me?"
"did you really need me?"
Broken by the burden of materialism,
broken hearted because I was weighed down by my own shame,
my eyes could not look at the Indian people as I passed them,
I heard them laugh and I was aware it was cruel and wrong of them,
but they were right to think of me as a westerner who couldn't hack the rocks I had to drag the heavy case over,
If I hadn't bought so much,
I would have been free of bondage.
Like a milestone around my neck,
the burden made me want to sink down and surrender,
I cried inside but I was to broken for the sound to come,
I wanted to cut the rope of materialism,
but I was already too ashamed to pick up the scissors.
- Would it be the same next time?'
An India poem by Gracefaith