Even When You Know

For an acolyte of Cassandra
very little is unexpected.

I am used to shouting into fields,
where the only acknowledgement
comes from the nodding of distracted flowers
moved by the whims of the wind.

What is unexpected
is that even when you know
what the weight of tired is
down to the ounce,

and are intimately acquainted
with how it grows
and compounds over time,

the physical dividends
still manage to bring unwilling gasps of pain
even when you know it’s coming.

Photo by Anh Nguyen on Unsplash



Song Choice: Unwell covered by Jimmie Allen

This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United: Well, That Was Unexpected. 

48 comments:

  1. I've often identified with Cassandra myself.

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    1. We should get matching jackets, like the Pink Ladies in Grease.

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  2. I've never contemplated the weight of tired! Interesting concept.

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    1. Glad I was able to pique your interest.

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  3. This is absolutely stunning, Rommy!❤️ I love the imagery here especially; "the nodding of distracted flowers." Cassandra had the gift of prophecy but unfortunately not many understood her.

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  4. 'the weight of tired' ~~ in all my life I hadn't considered it. You managed to capture it perfectly.

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  5. So vividly told, it makes me gasp in both understanding and delight.

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  6. I, who actually DOES step outside onto the back deck (where I can get the most echo) at least twice daily to scream/hoot/whoop as loudly as possible without fear of annoying any neighbors thoroughly enjoyed and admire this work, especially the 2nd stanza

    I made sure to read it to My Beloved Sandra to prove to her that I am NOT the only one.

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    1. Sometimes you have to just open your mouth and let that whoop come on out

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  7. I have come to expect the unexpected, Rommy, but you are right about those ‘unwilling gasps of pain even when you know it’s coming’. It’s a reflex we seem to be born with. I love 'the weight of tired'.

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    1. There's definitely something reflexive about it.

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  8. Luckily I am at an age I can give into tiredness quite happily.

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  9. I love how you delve into the phenomenon of “tired”. Like, how it can morph into pain. Beautifully done.

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  10. I have lived with the weight of tired. Thank you for expressing it in such a way. The thought of shouting to the fields and the only acknowledgement is being "moved by the whims of the wind"

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  11. I have been feeling the weight of tired for some time now. You put it into beautiful words.

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  12. I am not very familiar with Cassandra, but I can certainly feel the weight she carries in these trying times, and how it would affect her (and all of us). Excellent write.

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  13. Sometimes, I think, it's harder to know that something is coming than to deal with the unexpected.

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    1. There's a pain in anticipation, that's for sure

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  14. Someone I admire once told me that those of us who hope are always happier and always suffer the most. The hope keeps us from downing, but betrayal (especially when we know that is coming but wish so much that it wouldn't) keeps filling our mouths with water. Few things hurt more than almost drowning all the time... and always knowing that we can't stop it.

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    1. I think that having the chance to taste that happier makes up for the pain in the long run, but it gets hard to remember sometimes, especially after a string of bad expereinces.

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  15. Love this- the weight of tired down to the ounce... !!!

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  16. Brilliant line: the weight of tired. Never thought of that before, and me with long term ME/cfs. Brilliant!

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  17. wow brilliant poem Love the second stanza and "the weight of tired is down to the ounce"

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  18. I felt that one deeply.. you know what to expected and it is still unexpected when it comes

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  19. I'm feeling that weight and thinking about the flowers listening.

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  20. This feels so grounded in the grief of the moment...that quiet echoes.

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    1. Yes indeed. It's amazing how much room there is for the echoes to fill in one moment.

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  21. I am easily absorbed into this poem today. For even the inevitable can still bring us sorrow

    Blessed Sunday

    Muchđź’–love

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  22. Beautiful poem my friend, well-expressed.

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  23. The weight of tired gets heavier every day..Yes, and even when I know it is coming. It's a mind scramble to deny or look for light in the impossible I try to mend.

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    1. It'd be nice to get a moment to put that load down just for a moment

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