the joy of sleeping in fetal position
A Poem
My wrists ache today and my shoulders are sore, from sleeping with the weight of my body on them; alongside an exaggerated and falsely perceived weight of the entire world.
Yet the dreams didn’t make me cry and while I did awake to a broken furnace and freezing wooden floors, I was as able as ever to warm my hands with a mug of homemade coffee- and save my toes from frostbite with the aid of house slippers that have seen far too much for being worn by someone this young.
Sadness and joy and hot and cold and cowardice vs. being bold may in fact all be the very same person at the end of the day!
So I hug myself and I sleep in a ball where I know the solidity will not fail, and the warmth will always find a way to grow.
Life is agonizingly beautiful, is she not?
