Salvation In The Sun’s Rise

I rise,

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

try again.

The sheets still smell like sorrow,

my bones still carry yesterday,

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

My mind says hide,

my chest says fight,

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

I drink water like it’s salvation.

I step into daylight half-afraid, half-hopeful, all becoming.

There is no glory in this.

Only grit.

Only breath.

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