Pressure?

My mother sowed diamonds into her
life and reaped me after some time .
I can’t remember how long it was.
Legend has it, she gave me breath
under the Harvest Moon.
We’ve been bountiful ever since.

She fed me truth and soul food so
I could shine with the illest and walk
with the trillest. We watched each
full moon and called the bright ball
to lighten our feet so that we can go
fast and far.

On the eve of my 30th Harvest Moon,
I felt heavy as an ox, my belly teeming
as if I were a glutton for gravel.
I shuffled across the plains that once
knew me as nimble, searching for
answers or relief or a quick release.
I’m not one for heavy things, but I am
one to listen.

My mother was waiting there in the
clearing that birthed me. Her gaze
never left the ether. Her spirit was still.

My heart turned to crystal as the sun
set for harvest. There was no running
anymore. The heavy made light of my
concept of choice. A blank skyscape
made space for reaping again.

My father was near, ever omnipotent.
He picked up the weight of the world
when he put me over his shoulder.
My stumbling wouldn’t let me get far.
He hauled me to a break in the foliage
that I’d never seen — a rounded stage
where the moon could see us clearly.

My coarse stomach was in knots because
of my heart sinking. I winced and cried
aloud from the pain and shame of
weakness at a time like this.

My father knew something I didn’t. He made
me perform. I broke down into a ball before
I stood with the truth left in me and shouted
my soul into the sky.

I must’ve blacked out. When I came to, my feet
were light. My heart was in place.
My stomach was as heavy as ever.
The Harvest Moon was gone.
My mother and father were there to guide me home.
I could walk on my own now,
but never without this heavy belly.

I move slower now, but every step is guided in grace.
On this day, I learned how it feels to be full.

I’ve been making diamonds ever since.