(alternate title: me as a small shriveled crab apple)
You can start the day in the middle of the night,
unable to find comfort from
fingers and hands that won’t stop aching
one that is curled and can’t
straighten
and one that is frozen in suspended sharp, tingling
numbness
decide you’d like the night to be over and morning
to start
then cease resisting
and drift back into sleep
in the morning you can think about
savouring the part of your day
you will celebrate
alone-ness
while also wondering if rather, what you are feeling is
lonely
having hardly seen the one you love
this week
and how this sticks to you, even when he
seems
to barely notice…
feeling the things you have over-worked
and under-fed
(like hands and your mind)
once again holding your breath
wasting time on
worry and
wait
wondering why one cannot live on cookies alone
and how on a day filled with autumn sunshine
internals should feel
just a little
bit
grim
and then a friend will slip you a note
on 20 Things That Might Be Helpful
and you will stumble upon
words by John O’Donohue –
“This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.
Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.
If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.”
and then
despite all sordid attempts at
self-pitying sorrow
you
will feel yourself blessed
by hopeful things
yet again ♥