Today, I felt myself get up for the first time.
Mouse gray light through my thin curtains.
Warm bed, foreign but homey.
Work clothes over my desk chair, waiting.
Heater on, softly clicking.
Chickadees pecking. Early, hungry.
Nothing on my nightstand but books and bandaids.
My eyes were crusty, but not from tears.
My heart was heavy, but not with blood.
Today, for the first time,
the swelling has gone down
and the wound has stopped bleeding.
The blood is starting to harden into a cast.
My death state is fading like
echoes of a bad dream.
Soul stitched back together by gentle hands.
I’m a Robert doll with my own house to haunt.
I’m alone but not abandoned.
When I stopped screaming I realized
I’m not the only ghost.
If I listen to the others, when they visit,
one or two may listen to me.
Protagonized. 
Leave a Reply