Chronic Contemplation

Swimming to the surface of turbulent aching

from depths of living, such bottomless sleeping.

Blue black night fades into lightness. 

Dawn seeps in through golden window shades

forming shards of colour on magnolia walls

like a sky hung arc, singing with vibration.

Bed lies empty now, still warm 

yet holds no ease for a pain wracked one

when movement beckons the chi to rise,

the healing, holding wings of wisdom 

to take charge, and live. 

Cold, moist floor slams against cracked, dry soles, 

soles scrunch up as if pulling heavily away 

to escape cruel punitiveness

and voice in head demands warm bed,

motion free.

Retreating from pain and Life 

are not kindly options.

Shards on the wall move;

 colours change.