Awaking from Stasis

 Awaking from Stasis

A slow, sharp inhale, punctuates the rise from a great deep sleep
Next follows short shallow breaths, confusion, urgency.
Sweet dreams torn asunder, sweet dreams, and I
resisting the warmth they bring.
Grief lowly strolls now in place of something
once sacred and sweet.

The body rises in new space, new scene
Yet the mind loads and rolls fraying old film roles.
Whirr—click—tick, whirr—click—tick,
The fading ghosts of vibrant dreams
playback. The characters worn, faded
From repeated use, the scenes worn, graying
from locales growing foreign.
Whirr—click—tick, whirr—click—tick,
Once favorite films that brought
this body electric are soon to be
brought down to storage.
They lose more life with each play.

I rise from bed, beginning my next role,
Next scene. Thrrrrr—the projector hums, 
the reel dislodged, sputters in rotation.
Thrrrrrr—click, Thrrrrrr—click,
Stasis is gracious and slow as
it tries to write over a life
I didn’t want to throw away.

Time moving on makes these
scars upon my body,
puzzle pieces removed from
their jigsaw—stories seldom
spoke of again,
tragedies tucked to bed
like inconsolably sobbing
children.

Time marching on makes these
scenes of joy amidst dysfunction,
scenes of dysfunctional chaos
amidst joy
further misaligned.

How did this silver
streak of lightning
that bond our hearts
together strike,
then leave.

Stasis painful and slow,
Grief, still by my side,
A thready heartbeat
slow in my chest. 
The distance to tomorrow,
harrowingly far.
A step of many
toward becoming again. 

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