Surf board for a spine
Feeling pain is a morning alarm. The familiar song of disturbance, the rattle trapped under a peacefully sleeping baby. On waking, I check the system, the blood’s flowing, the back cracks, the knees grind. The hernia scar is still there, a school teacher’s ruler in my abdomen. I lie there, swipe the alarm away with a yawning finger and throw up the curtains on my eyes.
Next for the magic trick, dressing in the dark with sciatica at the back and a ridge of aches at the front. I am a king of flicking on socks. I set my toes to dive in, swing the mouth of the stretched out sock like a pendulum…if you can do all that while lay on your back, warm feet can be yours too.
Once up the kettle wails to be flicked on. I love that sound, the growl of the dancing water’s molecular structure. The occultation, the becoming that is morning. Tea is a vice, a device and a respite. I use it to raise a glass to the lost dreams of the night before. Toast the shadows of sleep and salute the chorus of dawn.
I have been given another day to explore, wanderlust inside writing. I travel everyday, an ocean knocks at my door. I scrawl a surf board on paper and it’s there in my hand. I strap it to my sore spine and climb into the crow’s nest. I spin on the spot. Where to, where to…..
