I. Winter Morning

5 am

the darkness is oppressive

an unconsciousness state

of existence

not middle of the night darkness–

where demons live


rather

a weighted burden

inky gravity

heavy on my

     forehead

     eyelids

     chest

my heartbeat 

deep and rooted 


the internal clock reads

sleep

a rebel fighter

battling unnatural 

arbitrary timelines

whispering

preservation is hibernation


winter mornings are

a heavy lift

so I grace myself

(a common covid refrain)

10 more minutes

     of sanctuary

     of breath slow

     of flannel nesting

5 thoughts on “I. Winter Morning

  1. Your “inky gravity heavy on my forehead” was calling for more “flannel nesting.” I have never been as grateful for my bed as this winter.

    Like

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