That Cold April Morning

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Late!
Late! You're always late!
Even when you're early.

Anxious, with shaking fingers and nicotine filled lungs
The speedometer reads 80mph
But time flies by more quickly
In the quiet, deep dark April morning
The yellowed lines a blur that stretches on for eternity.
Did I remember my task list?

Heading in an upward direction
Life seemed to be moving with me
Only positive things awaited
How could you be so naive?
But I worked so hard..

Eyes flash
As big as the moon which hung swollen above
Tawny fur leaping into motion.
Don't! Its not my truck!
I hit the breaks
Like some scared little child

Darkness 
And bitter cold
the smell of earth
and grass assailing senses
Some one is crying somewhere in the distance..
Struggling, numbed by cold
Digging fingers into the dirt
Pulling a broken body forward
In search of the woman crying in the dark

"Just hang on...I'll find something warm...Help is coming"
A voice, as warm as coffee flows through the heavy blackness
"That woman...crying...?" 
I struggle to speak around hot fluid filling my throat
"It was you...Now stay still.."
The darkness grows heavy
engulfing every sense
"You don't understand, I have to call my boss!"

A mask, suffocating me
Some stranger speaking my name
"Stay calm now, stay calm.."
My father's worried face appears as the mask is lifted
"You were in an accident..."
Voice a whisper, forced through pain,
"Can't we go have a cigarette?"
A month of nurses
and heavy medication
My curls fall out
The battle to draw breath eases

Home
But not my home...The family's home
Tracing long scars down past my bellybutton
Fighting pain just to stand
Missing the way warmth felt in my left hand
My will to overcome does not waiver
I can overcome this.

8 long months pass by
In a medicated daze..
"You're so lucky"
"it could have been worse"
"This girl is paralyzed..."
The comparisons
Meant to uplift
Are heavy weights wrapping around my soul.

Acceptance
I do not think I can over come this
I will never be who I was
I am letting everyone down
I flounder in self loathing
The things I love are now painful echos of the past
I know I must urge myself onward
But the strength I had is all used up
And so I sink
Back into that cold April morning





					
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