#NaPoWriMo: Day 12

Risen

It really has been tomblike,
quieter during the night
as we wait for a slice
of bright. The blue
hour looks clearer
from where I sit.
I’m blessed, I admit.
Even the anxious inklings
slithering like serpents
over my skin can be
pushed aside, hidden
within my soul that
still weeps for
all the uncertainty,
because I still have feeling.
It’s all too current.
The daily streams
disrupted. Normalcy,
whatever that means,
corrupted.
But each new dawn
is hope breaking
through our ever
closed windows.
Tides change.
They fall. They rise.
If I can manage
one deep breath,
it means I’m
still alive.