Honeyed Heaviness

In the quietude of a rain-soaked afternoon, I found myself adrift—a wanderer returning to the shores of my own existence. The world blurred at the edges, and my gaze, once sharp, softened into a dreamy haze.

Eyes glazed, I traced the contours of memory—the delicate etchings of moments half-forgotten. They swirled like watercolors on the canvas of my mind, each hue bleeding into the next. Faces, places, and fragments of emotion merged, creating a mosaic of longing.

The floodgates opened, and I waded through the waters of retrospection. There, in the shallows, I glimpsed my reflection—an echo of who I once was. The lines etched upon my face told stories of laughter and sorrow, eternally etched by time’s gentle hand.

But it was my heart that surprised me—an ancient vessel, brimming with honeyed heaviness. A sweetness born of both joy and ache, mingling like nectar in the veins. How had I forgotten this weight, this exquisite burden that made me feel alive?

Perhaps life had swept me away, like a river carving its course through stone. Responsibilities, expectations, the ceaseless rush of days—they had dulled my senses, numbed the ache. Yet here, in this flooded moment, I reclaimed it—the bittersweet elixir of existence.

And so, I stood on the precipice of remembrance, toes dipped in the waters of my own soul. The rain fell, baptizing me anew. I welcomed the flood, for it washed away the dust of complacency, leaving behind the raw essence of being.

In that honeyed heaviness, I found solace. It was a reminder that feeling—whether light or leaden—was the pulse of life. And as the raindrops danced upon my skin, I vowed never to forget again. For within this flood, I rediscovered myself—a traveler returning home, heart brimming with the sweet weight of existence.

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Copyright ? Beatriz Esmer