It is not with ease that I awake, nor with confidence in the day ahead.
Desperate calls interrupted the night. Imaginary ones, yet real.
Sharply colored dreams still sting at my brain, as if to signal despair.
In my wakefulness I choose the forgiveness that comes from routine.
And in stretching my body, a breath to find my place.
Some days must be deliberate.
Copyright (TZampino) 2020
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