The me who wakes from swelter and sting in the night
The me who falls from sheets to floor,
And walks with bones of rock
Heavy fingers. Heavy toes.
The stagnant swim from hell to hallway light
which slices through the darkness
like rays of sun from time ago
from before the bruise and blame of you
who crawled in me when I was small
The me who always makes it
With danger at my heels
With heat inside my hands
With lips as blue as frost
moving slow as measured mud
The me who flees from slow demise
Slipping hard
Breaking easy
With gravel in my voice
Until I find my breath, find my body
And return to the me who can stand upright,
All alone beneath the galley light
WRITTEN BY Andrea Mourad, POSTED 08/13/17, UPDATED 10/13/22
Andrea has had type 1 diabetes for 16 years. She is a passionate volunteer, fundraiser and role model. In addition to raising T1D awareness, Andrea loves to paint, write and spend quality time with her hubby. Creativity keeps her feeling healthy and positive! Follow Andrea on Instagram: @andreanicol3.
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