Morning Dread ~

Morning Dread ~

I was told that I should appreciate the sunlight,

By well-meaning friends who said that I should get up early,

Since it would make me be more productive.

'It was a great way to be healthier' . . . my Chinese girlfriend had said, who had been living off a budget of-

Two hundred dollars a month, in Manhattan.

So I greeted the day with a thin smile-

That was more like a grimace,

And wintry-colored spectacles.

The morning brought with it,

Depression, in a long, tin-colored, fading streak of light,

Horrendous back pain,

Fat globs,

Heartbreak, nausea-

Conservation, cold water . . .

There is a hollow darkness rising up,

That's wrapping itself like a cloak around my bust,

Gripping at me with merciless hands,

Hugging me close.

I stare now, loose-lipped, with dead eyes, at the sun-

A whistling wind rising up deep within me,

Out of a dead cavern.

The Day is calling me up though, with her demands,

So I answer her call-

I bathe, I feed the cats, get dressed, try to hold a failing meditation sess.,

And then sit back quiet and relax,

Trying to quell my rising panic,

Because I have finished with everything-

And now, all I can think is, 'what next?'

I suck in my breath, breathe, and count to ten-

'One, two, three, four . . .

In a few more moments, I will be feeling heathy.'