The following piece is published as part of our TLM Young Writers series, a dedicated section of The London Magazine‘s website which showcases the work of exceptional young talent aged between 13-21, from the UK and beyond.
Regina Rosenfeld
The Heaviest Weight We Bear
That day in the lamp shop, surrounded by trinkets and sheen,
there were so many bulbs with cracks and missing shards
that for a second, I wished I could repair their damage,
like the way a surgeon can cauterize even the faintest of wounds.
Because if they could be renewed, each hairline fracture lacquered
and levelled, then what past injuries could not be mended?
And as I roamed the aisles, while somewhere a radiator clanked
too loudly, and everything was cast by a faint glow,
I thought about how I’d been hoping to undergo a transformation
into a different self, one whose surface didn’t need
to be sanded to be smooth to the touch,
a place so full of tenderness that even rivers would touch gently
at the lip of my shore. Still, I’ve seen how hope is the heaviest
weight we bear. I know that now. For so long, I’ve been taught
that wishing could not undo what has already been injured,
could not remove what splinters our lives already hold.
Oh, I know there’s so much loss. I know this world could so easily
be devastated beyond remedy, a dark cove with its too many jagged
edges. But when I wondered about one of the lamps—
how it could possibly work since its bulb was serrated and sharp,
and I was sure its brightness would be diminished. I learned,
as I flipped its switch and speckled dots reflected from each wall
onto the next, the thing about light is that it’s not afraid
to be broken or unformed: you see, it knows it can never
truly be left shattered, only reshaped.
_
Regina Rosenfeld is a nineteen-year-old writer living in New York City. She attends Barnard College of Columbia University and is an editor at the Pine Hills Review.
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