Sunday, 2 February 2014

It was a different test I was giving, the kind that would tell me the kind of person I am
But it didn’t ask me the questions I expected, instead it asked me
What my pulse was like
So I placed my hand on my neck, and closed my eyes to feel its sound
And I remembered how long it had been since I realized that my heart was beating
Every day, every hour, every minute
Even when it was broken, even when it felt too full, even if it was so tired that it could have just given up
Months have passed since I saw my shadow following me, giving me company when I couldn’t bear to be alone
My footsteps, oh they’ve given me sounds, like music in the background, so beautiful but tuned out
And after months I notice how my hands dance as I write this, how my finger jump, how my arms move
And I never saw the expressions change on my face from delight to wonder to seriousness.

Some days, I feel too lonely, too tired, too alone, too broken, too sleepy
But I like to think of it as ‘in recovery’
Because I realize, I have a pulse that is slow and smooth, and a lovely heart that works day and night
I have a friend in my shadow, a radio in my steps, a dance in my hands
And no matter how I feel, I will always have people who’ll make me smile
And random strangers with something new to learn from
And so, from now on, ‘broken’ will be a word thrown out of my dictionary
When the hurt arrives, I’ll tell the world I’m in recovery.

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