There’s a crick in my shoulder.

A stiffness; there it is again –

that niggling pain.

Hard like a boulder

yet heavier still…

what could it be?

Oh. Yes. I see.

It’s only

the weight of the world.

Mine to bear;

so much wear and tear.


I sit here feeling; so much.

Unable to do anything but

contemplate; deliberate

the calamity and immobility

rendered by this weight;



What choices do I have –

Give up, let go, get crushed?

Forge on, pretend, stay hushed?

Be grateful, simply to exist?

Let it persist, and not resist?

What must I do, to take a stand –

for the world to somehow, understand?


I hold young lives, in my hands;

who watch, listen, yearn and learn;

lives that may follow in my mould;

opportunity! Cast in gold;

but will this load have to be

passed on to them – a legacy?

The weight of the world; borne by whom?


This poem is written to commemorate the 16 days of activism against gender-based violence, a global campaign taking place from the 25th November to 10th December, published in the Daily Financial Times of Sri Lanka