Morning story: poetry helps. Redhead is my alias:-)
Slow and sticky paces
Every day a kind of resurrection
Struggling to keep my feet
Stumbling towards another shot at life
While waiting for the whirl of thoughts to settle
Like mud in a pond
If I can just sit still
Bathe in the quiet for a while
Refusing to engage in tasks
Surrendered to the weakness
Mind disengaged, waiting for some clarity
Heart open to the silence as in prayer –
Preferably with morning sunlight streaming on my face –
Things do eventually improve
My body seems to find new strength
The pain recedes – aided by the paracetamol –
And daytime order reasserts itself
I gradually know what to do
My diary of events
The grace to face the day
Which item on the list to tackle first
How then to live?
External forces pressing in
Demands are made by everyone from children to the…
View original post 188 more words
Longing to escape... 