I think it's finally happened.
I'm functioning again.
Thawing out on a deckchair
in my concreted garden,
the sky is thinning and
promising March.

It's finally happened.
I don't have to pretend.
I had forgotten the taste of air,
now I walk through the book shops,
peeling through new volumes
and nesting for my own.

I think I'm getting there.
All barriers descending.
Misery is not ending
but changing, forming
to constellations of doubt
in the vast expanse of space.

I'm finally getting there.
I'm functioning again.
The papers are stacking
and news is coming in;
we have thrown down our arms,
crossing continents in the sun.