Holding the Sun

Two nights of sleep, divided by one of none. That's enough to think straight for a few hours. That's enough to recognize seedlings and bulbs, cloud cover and downpours. Enough to know that I am here in the mirror, there I go down the hall.

I can't say where I am for weeks and weeks. Insomnia is like that. Forgetting, repeating, starts and stops everywhere until I catch myself in basic breakdown between thought to action, thought to thought, around any kind of memory.

I threw my back out. Then got the flu. Add Spring break, no school and childcare. That's where I went.

A third night of sleep and I am cognizant again. I sit to write but all I can do is listen to music, hours pass and I breathe myself back.

How do we awaken from a long sleep? How do we remember that we have a body of pleasure?

How do we open within an enclosure of leaves, wrapped in tight weave spiral, winter at our back? Spring is here, adjust to the shock of light, the fervent feeling of rest and the rudeness of joy.