Dry grass on my legs, my back
For a second I am fodder for the ants
If I lie here, then something, right?
I hold the glass up to the candlelight
A golden ring around the rim
An unbroken glowing circle until my wrist shakes
I used to run miles until I blistered my feet
Now every task feels like a marathon
I try, then stop, then sit down and breathe
I have little visions of who I could be
That mountain climber my heart believes
Then I blink and find I’m still beneath the sea
Gasping
One upward stroke at a time
But most days don’t feel like a climb
(One month later and still losing my goddamn mind . . .)
So what else is there to do but keep trying?
Back in the grass, clovers brush my fingertips
I let my eyes shut for a moment (I’m so tired)
And if I lie here – then something, right?
With Love,
Natalie