And in the silence, deaf as an endless string of days that are the same
Grows,Surprised, the surge of fight
When your face has gone used to the smell
And darkness of dirt and ground
Since it fell from exhaustion
Down, down
Before the stubborn body, torn
And bleeding
Hurls itself back up again
With strength that only comes from
Instinctual, survival adrenaline.
You're not done yet, it screams
Just like the nerves you'd tried to rest
Protest against this upward stance
And hurls you against your will
(Or is it the will that hurls)
Into the world you think that you
No longer understand
A world which finds it odd, too, that you're still there
And walking, jerking one foot
Then the next and soon
It's automatic
Like the breathing which
Ironically, you still can do.
And suddenly you see a few
Hands gently, briefly touch your elbow
And it is enough to steady you
And lends momentum to
The forward movement, the gall
To feed off the quest you know is right.
Somehow you'll get there, maybe, you
Hear whispered faintly by your ear,
And even if you don't believe it,
That you've heard it
Is enough.
