Anticipation sours the deep warm pit of my stomach
A tingle sounds in the back of my neck
My pulse is a dull thud below my lungs
I have done all that I can do
So I put my worries to rest
Closing my eyes,
If I can’t see them they won’t be there
I can fight again when I wake
Mary Anne Radmacher — ‘Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’
I am glad this morning when I do not have to get up ridiculously early to catch a train to Sydney.
My mouth hates the taste of toothpaste and early mornings.
My eyes rebel against replacing the sun with artificial lights so early.
I like the way the sun gives us time to say goodbye to the darkness,
colouring the edges with orange and the middle with shadowed blue.
Toothpaste and tangled hair, waking up is hard sometimes,
Days when you’re hanging by a thread and nothing seems to rhyme.
But I still love the rain clouds when they’re falling on my face,
Still love the smell of wet dust when I’m not sure of my place.
You know you can’t have sweet honey without braving a few stings,
And I don’t think I would fly away, even if you gave me wings.