Will the mind or the body move first?
Will neither let soften their rigidness, will none express their thirst?
Did I mention – I sit in bed, start each day with good intentions:
one cup of tea turns into two turns into three.
One hour stretches to four or more: morning traverses lunch until my stomach screams.
Aching hips shout louder than dullness of mind:
“Get up and move” they say, but I can’t find
it in me; I’ve lost all sense of self respect.
I don’t know why I’ve come to expect
anything from me when I’ve given
it all up. I used to be so driven.
But now I am so stuck.