Gravity Strings

Literally and metaphorically: "What do you get up for?"

Her body was a rectangle. My eyes, wedges fixed downward. While my nape still works as a rusty joint should, her straight back did nothing to keep her lower body from what it was betraying.

Gravity, it’s desperate; bringing weight to her lower body.

Waists, no longer round in shape; bum, sagging though big; an area of lose shirt... the only patch reminiscent of a backbone’s curve.

Everything about her was rigid.

Adapting to stiff chairs, hand-me-downs, to narrow hallways made narrower by fellow passersby, to life situations that seemed determined never to let her leave that ramshackle bungalow.

I see her, she is my mother.

But my head is far too heavy for my shoulders.

--Gravity, it pulls me down by the lashes. It is unwilling to enter alone into the abyss. I’d exchange places, if it could guarantee I won’t also pull down my mother with me.

--Gravity screams false promises. All I can do is look at it in the eye, with a sorry and a conditional yes, otherwise catching glimpses of my mother passing by.

More precisely, her legs trudging like a robot’s.

If only she lacked the ability to suffer. Yet Gravity clings onto all of us.

Author's Note

What emotion/s did you feel? (Feel free to cite phrases/sentences.)

If this was to be spoken word, what kind of voice do you think should it be read with? (Adjectives or names of YouTubers and other people welcome.)

I HOPE I DIDN'T MAKE ANYONE CRY. If ever I do, I hope it's worth it.
If it makes anyone feel better: I've written this kind of poem, I tend to be pessimistic, and I'm still here.

This also appears in my FB page, Nook Of Ruth.