There is tenderness
in rising every morning
just as the sun rises
consistently,
it never crawls
under the covers
and hides
even when the day
has been broken
by terror or loss
or grief
There is vulnerability
in rising every morning
knowing you cannot
change the world,
you can only change yourself,
finding the hint of courage
the glimmer of trust over fear
the hopeless,
weakened muscle that
needs exercise
to rise
and rise
There is rising
in remembering
that you cannot
shatter love
There is rising
in knowing the
memory of you
is a blessing
There is rising
in the next breath
you take, the one
that takes you deeper
