waking up from a coma
forgetting where the door handle is
yes, the one that can get you out
into the the light
how bright and warm it is
how different it is to be
reflected in the light
what does this feel like?
how long have i been under?
how long have i grown accostomed to things that take a lot of effort?
it would make me cry to see a different way
still so hard to imagine
and yet that is the gift
eyes that open to see dazzling
to see wonder
an infinite staircase ascending into the sky descending into the earth
and lifted from the depths of nowhere
a type of intangibility
like lifting a bright floating flower
open my mouth to speak but the words are rusty illformed
i realize it will be a while until i can truly say what i feel
but the world does not know that
and animals, plants, creatures of all sorts lean in for storytime
coaxing speech from an infant who feels more at home in laughter
point to what you notice
befriend what isn’t there
because it is and maybe sleep has made me see in different amber light
where have i been?
where is this place i’ve been dreaming of?
how do we get there?
walking along the path distant beauty
out of reach seemly and stretch as if to make connection
listening close to this
and remembering not to forget to remember
to remember what it is like to not understand
to not know
to not know what you see
or how you would describe it
and a gentle comfort you could sink into as you wait patiently
wait for the thing you want to say
the voice to use
the beauty to convey
remember to do that once you learn