I am in a state of inertia,
even breathing is a heaving encumbering illness,
unwanted, my ribs rise, lungs bloat,
with the air that’s steadily keeping me afloat.
My eyelids are weighted,
leaded with invisible heavy loads
fit for adjusting and comparison,
each eye, though, is equally laden.
I struggle to rise from this depressive state,
it’s difficult once self-condemned,
a being needs the reassurance that of
their efforts they are worthy.
But I’m upon my bare stomach
and I can’t bring myself to even crawl,
nor to slide along to advance forth,
am I able to do anything at all?
Then I remember the words spoken to me:
try, try, and try again,
don’t give up,
the voice is echoing,
for safety I am yearning,
from this abhorrent state in which I lie
I must advance myself,
I know I must, I must.
Thus, with palm and palm I drag myself,
each movement is monumental in my eyes,
though small and steady,
I acquire, I acquire, I advance.
Eventually I look back,
how far I have come,
a little wisp of triumph from my wick
I’ve avoided smouldering myself,
from this tribulation I will rise,
this success is the beginning of a future aggregate,
of everything which will shall come to pass,
this I do surmise.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.
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