Morning Is Here - 2-10-09

The morning is here. No more escape to be found in luscious sleep or restless dreams. The landscape of my bed is behind me as I travel on to the crags of my day. I get ready with a heart of stone for my day. As I ready myself and make my way out to meet it, my insides are ragged, not quite as neat and tight as they should be, mussed a little from the hours spent outside the prison. My numbness lays in crumpled gathers around me in faded purples that shy away from the light. I’m still crumpled, too, in no state to go to battle. I must gather the eggplant folds of my cloak around me, shake it out and clasp it tight so no light can reach any part of me.