Bearer of Burdens

The newly-laden branches of spring,
Outside my window: you are laden with more than leaves.
How many of my musings have you borne,
As I, gazing at your shape and movement,
Have wondered at my life and pondered my work?

How many of my questions, and fears,
How many doubts, griefs, reliefs
Have you taken upon yourself?
So full are you with my musings;
And surely unaware of the weight you bear.

How my thoughts have taken on your shape!
It is as if they found a dwelling in you,
A place in which they could unfold
And untangle from within me, not unburdening,
But always finding in your pattern a path to follow,
A shape to take,
Like water poured into a vessel.

You have not resolved my problems,
But always you have been there,
And their meaning found expression in your curves,
Winding their way, constricting my mind,
Or releasing with the onset of peace.
You, silent, said nothing, took nothing, gave nothing,
But patiently bore the weight.

Thus, I am ever bid to bear my burden
To the only one that can relieve it.
You can only observe, remain patiently
As a backdrop perhaps, or, poetically speaking,
A listener. But never more:
Only one can take the shape of my burdens
And redeem them.
There my road finds its destination.