The Window

I have this image in my mind of our window, the window.

A picture of it too, an actual picture.

I am standing there, in front of it, the window.

It’s a warm, sunny morning

After a long, dark night of using

It’s seconds after the sun fully pops up and exposes itself in warrior pose

Bright, golden light flooding my apartment, and my face, my body

I’m wearing gray, baggy sweatpants, a tight, but loose shirt, expanded by the evenings to-do’s.

I think I was still straightening my curly hair at the time, for lack of self love

and lack of children, I’m still mostly consumed with how I look

instead of how I really feel and ways that I can change my misery to something more sun-shiny

more whole

more real…

and I remember myself looking down, walking slowly, standing slowly at the edge of the window

wanting to soak up the sun star’s warmth, joy and healing…

while simultaneously regretting and feeling guilty for all I have done in the last 24 hours….

And I somehow remember in this cycle of sunrise and sunset, that there is more to this life

that if the sun can awaken anew

so can I

even at the window

for a few, short




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