A poem on leaving work

When asked I said “I think it is time to go”
all the signs were there
my physiology revolting against continuation
my anxiety demanded
and with trembling voice I said yes, it is time
not reason nor rhyme
on the platform refusing to board the express
taking time to bless
count my blessings, invoke my privilege
let others shoulder now
what I had carried for so very long before
they were even born,
Guilt or shame so often my closest friends
must respect the end
and banished be forever from my beginnings.

Chris P