Dawn’s Gentle Reclamation

In the soft dawn, when shadows cling like old friends,

I rise from the depths of a bed that holds me like a shipwrecked sailor—

The sheets are my sea, each movement a labor,

Yet the promise of the day stirs the slumbering soul.

Today, I don garments that whisper of normalcy—

A simple shirt and worn jeans,

Not to adorn my spirit, but to dress the vessel of my resolve,

Each fabric thread a gentle reminder of purpose.

I walk to the couch, a haven of familiarity,

Where the mundane sits like a humble companion,

And there, in the echo of a fleeting laugh,

I find a small victory in the ordinary—an act of rebellion against the dark.

The world outside remains a daunting expanse,

But I step beyond the threshold,

My burdens a weight not easily shouldered,

Yet the door opens, and the day’s light greets me with a soft embrace.

I witness the sunrise, a silent ode to hope—

Its hues spill across the horizon like an artist’s first stroke,

And in that moment, the earth’s grandeur stirs within me,

A reminder that beauty exists even in fleeting grace.

Each breath I draw is a testament to resilience,

A quiet celebration of life’s unspoken promise,

For today, in the act of rising and moving,

I reclaim the day’s gentle gift, a reminder that I am still here.