Sometimes I
wonder about others
when I am on
a voyage,
thinking to
myself in the silence.
Where do I
have to go, how far away,
to lose this
incredible burden:
my talent
for doing so much harm.
It is not
only that I do harm,
but through
my neglect the others
shoulder my
terrible burden
and go off
on their own voyage.
They go
their own way, they go my way,
and I am
left alone in the silence.
What happens
to them in the silence?
They pass
ahead into time; is it harm?
Why do I
think any way they go is my way?
They are
complete minds—they are others.
Yet, we all
make the same voyage,
and to be
separate is a great burden.
Not to see
you as me is a burden,
a painful
wall of immense silence
that causes
us to go alone on our voyage.
On the other
hand, harm
can also be
seen in seeing others
exactly as
myself. I want my way.
This is why
I run or walk away
with my
sack, my mysterious burden
which I hide
from all the others.
Do you think
they know in the silence
that I
almost wish to do them harm,
that I am
jealous of their voyage?
Do we
protect others on their voyage
by making
them believe they own their way?
Or could it
be that we’re doing harm,
causing them
to carry their burden
through an
eternity of silence--
a silence
that leads each of us to be an other.
On my voyage
I’ll remember a burden
that took me
away in the silence,
where my
harm is equal to others’.
© Julianne Carlile
1994