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  • Writer's pictureSarah Donkin

Waking Up

As the new day blooms behind curtains,

crawling on weightless whispers

and swan-songs of sleep,

I open my eyes to say good morning

to the weight of my body sinking into the mattress.

I notice the textured patterns on the ceiling

spiraling around tiny points that probably don’t even realize

that they are included in the beauty built around them.

Once I lost the peace that came with

the still, quiet mornings. I forgot

to look out the window at the world turning

from dark, to gray, to pastel, to full color, and

the sun illuminating spider webs as intricate as

tendrils of dreams slipping back into my pillow.

I hid from the textured ceiling and

clung to kaleidoscopic visions that

could never stay bright when faced with the sunrise.

But today, I’m lying on my back

with my arms behind my head, welcoming the sunlight and

the patterns gracing the ceiling while my thoughts wander;

light. I think about

other tiny lives who spiral around each other and

probably don’t even realize that

they are a part of the beauty built around them. Someday,

they will wake up

and see their place in the beauty

of this very morning.

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