The weight sinks heavy upon crisp-clean-sunken shoulders
Eyes weary from fighting gravity
And losing...occasionally
Mighty blows leave swelling under eye sockets
Like wounded
Like hollow
Are her empty-achy spots
That need filling
She resigns to the idea of quitting
And the war is done
Gravity won
And white light through closed lids
Are her gift of surrender
The splendor of the day is gone
Or had it ever come?
& what will night bring if shadows cloak her day?
What will she wear for bed clothes?
Stubbed toes exposed
Missing shoes breed sores in soles unvisited by battlegrounds
And the wounded want no pity
Only moments to rest eye lids
Long enough to cope
Long enough to grow calluses on soft-sore skin
To start again at daybreak
To breathe again at daybreak
The moon pricks goose pimps 'round crisp-clean-sunken shoulders
Covered in night...
Where is the light?