In orange light,
and October's amber
flood
it's the first time I've felt my pulse, my bones, my hands, my heart,
my blood

In a room
awkwardly shifting in my
chair
I'm noticing my body moving, it's the first time I'm awake and
I'm aware

For years I've lived,
trapped in a haunting
plea
It's the first time I've been pulled out and seen that she's in the room
with me.