The Bird That Sings When The Dawn is Still Dark

When the morphine came
there was a catholic moment
when I thought I should refuse

I closed my eyes and visualized
myself without it
and decided it better
that this medicine is used

It helped. But not enough. The doctors had to do it again.
And still .
There was that moment of guilt.
That single flinching instant
where I have seen life as a game
and points collected for purity

No drink
Mastery of self

All at once swept away in a single decision

At night, later
in my hospital bed

I did not dare to dream
nor even sleep
for fear the pain returned

And when they asked me if I needed morphine
I finally broke down that wall
between me and all of the things
that were designed for this specific moment
and this specific use
There was a moment of sickness
very brief
and then I felt

At first, not necessarily free
nor happy
but focused

As if
I was not in dire pain
and I began to see
that this body
that holds me
can withstand much more
than being unable to breathe

This time
I was a little too close
but I held my own
as anyone would
dragging myself to the emergency room

on the other side
of my illusionary wall

I found breath of life
hidden in blood
if only to an extent
pushing my limits
once again

And as if all in a moment
through a day
and in and out of a morning
and over a night
I was alright again
and I finally slept

and I finally dreamed
beyond the wall
of what we see

or seem