Not a Burden

Dr Ranbir Laishram
My loved one placed a walking stick in my hand,
a souvenir of her journey,
a gift for the years ahead.

She laughed: "You may need it one day."
I smiled,
but inside, a silence opened.

For a moment,
the ocean of my life rolled back—
the steps I have taken,
the paths I have yet to walk.

Will this stick steady me?
Or will I lean upon it as I lean on others?
My heart whispers no—
I wish my legs, my will, my freedom
to be my own until the end.

I do not fear slowness,
nor the silver fog of memory.
Only this:
to weigh down those I love,
to turn their patience into duty,
their care into burden.

When the last breath comes,
let me leave walking—
not as weight to be carried,
but as life, unbound.