In moments I saw me
In my definition,
I realized when injured
That life remained ready
To be perished,
Healing was an act of
Aggression for the life force,
A window held the light
The light was the weapon
To wake up life to surge the
Blood to flow,
There was a bed in the dark corner,
It was in a new place, in my
Home it was by the door,
My home was looking strange,
I had to crawl to the bed,
Four strokes would get me there,
But I laid there thinking,
Wanting one last story to be
Narrated,
Then I could walk and sleep.
Stone is how my legs looked
Occasionally choosing to live,
Conserving energy helped me to
Curl on that clean floor,
I knew all the tiles, but the distance this afternoon was the closest,
The voices were dying now before,
Before my will to
Straighten the curl, then curl that would help me push,
I remembered all that I had pushed,
Here as the palms faced up I saw spaces of clean air,
The chill of the tiles tore into my temples, this forehead had touched many a temples,
But this pain was different,
It was physical, as if all had been physical,
I was mimicking life, I was ready to getting on to tomorrow,
Out there, the shiver still kept the push going in somewhere,
The odds had dismissed the thoughts, I was digging every
Square inch, I ran out of choice,
I was left with the only option, to fight,
I stayed on to fight that one more push.
