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

quiet stares

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

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