Day Twenty: Resurrection

MORTALITY

Getting out of bed every day

is an act of resurrection.

The morning opens before me like a set of jaws,

with signs that point to the left and right,

but the letters are shadowy, so

I cannot read them without glasses.

I'm not sure if I forgot my glasses,

or was too stubborn to acquire them

in the first place, but every rising

becomes a little more difficult,

as if, with each new morning

I am a tiny bit closer

to being unable to get out of bed at all.