The Things We Carry

By Baone Peace Moalosi

We carry bodies – ours,
Theirs, broken ones, blamed ones.
We carry names we don’t say anymore.
We carry hands we trusted,
Until they turned into weapons.

We carry beds too big,
Doors that don’t lock,
And rooms that still smell like fear.

We carry “I’m fine” stitched into our lips.
We carry “It’s nothing” like a shield.
We carry bruises in places nobody sees.

We carry empty cribs,
Half-built futures,
Rings we can’t take off.

We carry knuckles on our backs.
Taxi fares in our pockets.
Night shifts.
Dead dreams.

We carry the weight of being believed,
And the weight of being ignored.

We carry hope like a flickering flame.
Sometimes hidden,
Sometimes burning our fingers,
But still, still, we carry it.

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Baone Peace Moalosi is an award-winning creative writer from Mochudi who believes feelings are meant to be felt… and then turned into fiction. She writes stories that dig into the messy parts of life: love, grief, mental health, awkward flirting, and the strange art of trying to be okay. She has published three novels titled, Pain Isn’t The Worst Thing, Outside The Liquor Store, and The Things We Carry, which were written with equal parts heart, honesty, and a suspicious amount of caffeine.

When she’s not writing, she’s probably eavesdropping on strangers (for creative purposes, of course), dodging real-life responsibilities, or arguing with her characters about who’s really in charge of the plot. Spoiler: it’s usually them.

She lives somewhere between her imagination and reality, and she’s got a pen in both places.

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