#0024

I wake up this morning
Defeaned by grief.
I snooze; believing my hearing
Will be restored when I open my eyes again.

I stretch, and get out of bed.
I breathe.

I recognised the hole in my heart.
I light the candle on my sill,
To calm myself,
and get in the shower.
It seems to me there is still
Dirt on my right hand-
from yesterday.
I don't try and brush it off.

I forget to wash my face
And turn the water off, then back on.
The ease of this plunges me
Into dark thoughts.

I will never hear the simple:
"Is anybody home?"
And go rushing to greet him, as we did when we were young...
Though, perhaps I will one day?

I dry myself and reenter the room
Where the candle burns brightly.
I fear it will scorch the fragile plant beside it,
But I do not move the plant.

I dress and make the bed,
And am glad of the learned patterns within my brain
So I don't have to think as I do those things;
The everyday; the mundane.

As if in vague dreaming, I remember telling someone last night as I cried
How I mistrust people.
I berrate myself and determine to think that way less,
And as He did more.

I get into the car and, unthinking, begin to sing to myself.
It's a love song; unrelated to Him or yesterday.
I remember not being able to sing for Him
Through the tears.
I stop singing.
The tune dies on my lips.
The radio seems inappropriate
And I lose myself in thought.

When I pull up, I do not recall my drive.

Oh! The train is here! I'm going to be late! Better catch it!

And life rushes on...