A conditioning of impotence,
reaching for the salt when another swipes it first,
mounting silence in heavy boots, step upon step,
crags of volcanic history ignored by all
but you.
Buttons pop in flights of frustration,
and the weight of carrying baggage,
generations of status quo,
threatens to break your back
until
the ludicrous heart-heaviness and surge
for a real place in family becomes visible
for the impossibility it is.
Pitching the straps off your shoulders,
searing sight of that graveyard of the forgotten
rising skyward
into memory, you shake your head
at the Sisyphean absurdity,
turn around
and walk away.