rods

light emanates from strange quarters. my light came from binge-watching the last half of the second season of Orange Is the New Black. somewhere in the middle of the intrigue and vileness, i began to feel again.

the next day, i wrote out my rage and then sat in a bath listening to the rockies game on the radio.

the day after that, i listened to music. really listened, not just had something on in the background.

the day after that, i read heather’s poetry aloud and cried, and others cried too, and i smiled and laughed and hugged and kissed and ate half a donut with froot loops stuck to the frosting. i could feel the sugar rush shoot through my elbows.

my emotions had gotten switched off, cones first, then rods, until gradually everything went dark. sometimes you fumble for the light, and sometimes you just lie there and wait for the dawn. and sometimes the darkness tells you there is no light, it is the only reality, it is your only velvet comfort, and you sink into it and wait for nothing. and the nothing is already there.

and then sometimes it all comes back. first rods, then cones.

yesterday, i experienced the world with all my senses, and my smile didn’t feel like a damp cloth, and the quiet in my head was just quiet. i slept when i wanted to sleep. i spoke and was spoken to, and the world worked out, and i did not push my luck but accepted what was given to me. i’m striving for grace out of the quiet, but if no grace is granted, i hope at least for clarity and a sense of truth that comes from light.

yesterday, light emanated from clean air, a sip of beer and a slice of sausage. today it could come from anywhere.

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About betterpast

Thirty-seven and counting. View all posts by betterpast

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