On Burdens, a poem

Some things lift you up, some weigh you down.  It always seems easier to write about the latter...

The past
Draped behind like a cloak
Drags, heavy
At each forward step
Pulling, long-fingered
With its reaching grasp

Dripping fatigue 
Strained at the seams
But gripping steady
Weighty draw unfurled
Recriminations
Always ready

To forget
To cast it off
Stand unclad of vain reflections
Shoulders proud
Forces acting solely
In single direction

A dream, no less
Mistakes haunt
With bitter redress
Regret begets more upset
Questioning purpose
The path unclear

We carry, always
Our burdensome bundles
Amalgamation
Of all our days spent
Whether wisely or without
Care for consequence

Poetry by Harakhte/Pic by  Unknown