may and I

slow to wake, this
body of mine. slow to catch
fire
after cold solitude, all energies turned
inward for survival. no
more.
and it feels good to feel
good.
and it's impossible
to feel impossible.
here, now, when I cannot speak in
words,
when I can barely
move a
muscle, my only
hope of an interpreter
is the vigorous
pounding of my heart.
this moment is
everything.
and nothing.
slow burn. blue fire. hazy
day.
leaves unfurl. the cherries
blossom.