|awaking to the glow February 2007|
She is still awaking, sleep still in her vision. Clinging to anything soft and comforting, an old handmade blanket, a threadbare teddy bear with stuffing coming out of its paws, a thin pillow smelling of lavender and night sweat. She is trying to go back to sleep afraid that fear will stun her once again. So my waking is slow. I am watching these dear dreams float into my heart once again on rays of sunlight between the drapes. I am stretching out of bed like my canine friends, shifting this soul that has been in deep well, remembering how to believe anew.
Yes, my voice is still trembling.
So I will begin here at a whisper.
I will begin right here.
Waking up late.