A Bus of Guilt (poem)

The burden of my guilt was to

carry a bus filled with those I've wronged

everywhere I wandered,

with forgiveness forever on the horizon,

always just out of reach.

That was my sentence.

But as I wandered I met others,

who could barely find the energy to go on,

whose pasts had left them such great scars

that they had to pull them in a trailer behind them,

who hated their own reflection

simply because it resembled them.

I wanted so badly to help,

but every time I reached a hand out,

the bus on my back would crush me

and the laughter of my sins would roar at me,

forcing me to retreat back

just to save myself.

I knew the burden was fair,

that my endless journey of guilt was just,

that it was exactly what I deserved,

and yet, I felt like dropping it,

putting the bus down to help others,

like letting forgiveness disappear...

Then one day I saw myself,

an old statue of Atlas,

with the world replaced by the bus,

the stone of my body cracking

under the shadowy vehicle

that I had carried so far.

I didn't recognize myself,

so I reached out to help,

only to yell at myself:

“no! don't! I deserve this!”

Our fingers met on the mirror,

and I realized what I had become.

I saw I was destroying myself,

that I was crumbling to dust

carrying the burden of my guilt.

I saw inside the bus on my back,

but only saw faces, pictures,

taped to great weights.

Those I had wronged had moved on,

and as I gazed into the bus,

gradually each one turned into me.

Staring in wonder, I said, “I am sorry”,

and with the last ounces of my strength,

lifted the bus from my shoulders.

When I awoke,

I was sore, but enlightened,

tired, but free.

I stood and gazed at my shades,

and they smiled at me as I turned

to aid those I could not before.

-Zero