Salvation In The Sun’s Rise

I rise,

not because I want to, but because something inside me whispers:

try again.

The sheets on my bed still smell like sorrow,

my bones still carry yesterdays problems.

But I peel my body from the couch like bark from a broken tree.

My mind says hide,

my chest says fight,

and my legs tremble with the ache of choosing life one more time.

So I brace myself.

I drink water like it’s salvation.

I step into daylight half afraid, half hopeful,

yet all becoming.

I catch my breath, and capture

the quiet defiance of trying again when no one’s watching.