To the harsh, bitter opening of the day
Feels its icy-cold breath on her neck
And clutches the covers close to her chest
In the realm of the dream, she would prefer to remain
But her body betrays her, and she protests in vain
No lingering in safety, reclaiming moments long-past
For time marches ever onward – forward, not back
She crawls begrudgingly out of her bed
Knowing all too well the misery that lies ahead
She is alone, as these days is most always the case
In isolation, disaffection, her demons she must face
Passes portraits, sweet smiles, as she treads lightly down the hall
But her laughter is missing, unlike the woman on the wall
Carefree snapshots of one she once thought she knew
Shuts her eyes, bites her lip; she is just passing through
Catches glimpses in the mirror of a soul frail and old
This spectre, this shadow, who will never be whole
The best laid plans, off the rails, it would seem
Ravaged by circumstance, victim of fate’s foul schemes
Nearly grasps, almost reaches, vaguely recalls
The woman she once was, prior to her fall
She was fresh and full of hope, passion, and fire
A force to be reckoned with, a spirit to admire
Now saddled and tamed, she relives and regrets
Retraces, to no avail, her missed paths and missteps
She harbors a hole in her heart that won’t heal
Struggles to stay present – some days, to simply feel
Her thoughts never cease to remind her of her pain
Of all she has lost and how little remains
She clings to the remnants as if they were gold
But she finds herself slipping, nothing left to hold
The memories are dreadful; they punish and wound
They rip and they shred; they refuse to soothe
She is trapped in a loop, cannot scale the walls
Confined to her cell, to a prison lacking bars
She longs for serenity, for long-lasting peace
For stability, security, and a sense of relief
She yearns for the normal, for one more good day
But her hope for that future is fading, wasting away
She believes in her Maker, knows something better lies ahead
But she stumbles, lacks wisdom, and sometimes doubts instead
Seeking meaning in this life, her nagging questions persist
Trusts the future, but until then… how does she exist?
She drags through the hours, weary and spent
Endeavors to understand this cruel hand she’s been dealt
She flounders and fumbles and tries hard to resist
The notion it’s for nothing, that something’s seriously amiss
She does what she can to ease the suffering of others
But whether it matters at all, she often wonders
Is she making a difference? Are her efforts well-received?
Has she learned all the lessons? Is her Author well-pleased?
By the end of the day, she has no more left to give
And only hopes that her failings all might forgive
Lies back down in the embrace of her warm open bed
And once again invites the dreams that still live in her head
