She wept.
Curdled upon the disjointed planks
Of old mahogany wood
On her cold bedroom floor.

She watched the empty air
Swirling specks of dust
In a perfect dance, afloat
Before her blurry eyes.

Each particle contained
A glimmer of light
That informed her,
Day was near.

But still, she sank
Beside the bed,
That contained
The essence
Of them--

Words, softly spoken
In the black abyss of night
When sound and sensation
Triumphed over sight.

The timelessness they spent
Within the vortex,
Levitated & contained
As that enchanted rhythm,
Moved them-
Together.

Those raw mornings
When light spilled across them
Delighting
In an innocent rebellion
Against the sun’s command
To begin the day.

STOP

Without an accomplice
She felt no delight
In her meager rebellion
Against the light.

And so she collected
everything within her
and drew herself to kneel.

And then,
Pressing the calloused soles of her hands and her feet
Into that cold mahogany floor,
She picked herself up-

And began her day.