By Nora Smith

Atlas was black.
The world on his shoulders,
no shoes on his feet.
Brought to his knees by all he must carry,
alone.
The ghosts of his ancestors
trampled into the mud of the ground
by the millions who climbed
and never looked back.

A baby coos in the cradle.
His small arms try to wave
weighted down by shackles
forever too big. Too heavy. Too cold.
Placed there with care by a mother
to train her child. To make him strong.
So, he can one day take his father’s place
and carry the weight of the world.

Atlas, tired and beaten,
Crippled and alone.
No end in sight,
on broken back and bleeding knees
he weeps beside his God.
For their sons and the ever increasing
cross they must bear, alone.

Until one day a child came.
He looked upon the baby in the cradle
And saw the shackles on his arms.
He turned to Atlas to ask why,
and saw the muscles bulging, knees bleeding,
sweat and tears run rivers down his dirt streaked face
and he understood.

The years of pain,
the strength and love and fear
that Atlas must feel to remain
under the weight of the world.

The boy tried to help but he was weak.
So, grasped what he must do.
He took the chains off the baby and placed them on himself.
For years he trained, he sweated and cried
but stayed strong thinking of how happy the baby was
to finally wave his arms in freedom.

The child’s friends came.
Questions in their eyes and the child spoke.
He shared, and showed
his muscles and scars and the stories they told.
Then he showed them the baby,
wild and free, crawling around his newfound world.

All day the children came,
they laughed, and played, and cried.
Then the next day they returned with weights of their own,
and the children began to grow strong.

Their parents came and wondered
where their carefree children had gone.
When they saw their weights, they cried
and tried to take them off.
But the children gently shook their heads,
pointed at Atlas and then at his son
and the parents understood.

The parents joined and the children grew.
All we’re stronger, and no one was alone.
Slowly the others came,
drawn to the noise and the crowd and the change.

They stood by Atlas,
side by side, and began
to lift the world. At first nothing changed.
The world was too heavy.
And no one understood how Atlas
had managed for so many years alone.

They pushed and pulled
and groaned and swore
until the world began to move.
An inch at a time it was raised
Until Atlas stood tall and free.

They moved him out and took his place.
They washed his face, his feet, his back and knees.
And Atlas was left to rest, without weight
for the first time since his early cradle days.

People, came and saw and cried and
trained to help lighten the load.
Until all were strong
and the world was light,
held in the circle of many hands
and children were allowed to run free.

Photo: Image by Nicole Klesy from Pixabay