Soul Weary

A poem about the exhaustion that can come when transformation asks too much for too long.

This piece sits in the space where growth no longer feels inspiring, where surrender stops sounding beautiful, and where even the right lessons can feel unbearable to keep learning.

It distinguishes burnout from something deeper: not only the fatigue of doing too much, but the soul-level weariness that can come from loss, grief, change, and continuous inner reconstruction.

Rather than offering resolution, this poem gives honest language to the middle of the process.

The place where you may understand what is happening and still be tired.

The place where you may believe something meaningful is coming and still want rest.

The place where transformation is not radiant yet, but still requires you to keep splitting wood and hauling water.

This poem still feels very honest to me. There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from having to (un)become.

Not perform. Not produce. Not simply keep up with life's ordinary demands.

Become.

This poem was written from that place.

What stands out now is not the exhaustion itself but the way I was relating to it.

At the time, I was trying very hard to determine whether weariness meant I was resisting life or whether life was simply asking too much.

• I wanted certainty.
• I wanted to know whether to surrender more or protect myself more.

Now I think the answer was probably both.

I think this poem captures something important that I still believe:

there is a difference between emptiness and depletion.

• Emptiness can create room.
• Depletion asks for restoration.

And not every difficult season is automatically sacred just because it changes us.

One thing I appreciate now is that the poem never pretends wisdom removes effort.

• The wood still needs splitting.
• The water still needs hauling.

But I have become gentler with myself around how long those seasons last and more willing to believe that rest is not failure, weakness, or falling behind.

Sometimes weariness is information.

Sometimes it is grief.

Sometimes it is simply the body asking to be included in transformation.