Should I even get out of bed?

Photo by Inga Seliverstova on

I woke up early today, 
not sure if I should get up 
or roll under my bed and hide 
from the bitterness that stings
like dry arugula stuck in my teeth.

The silence is numbing and scrapes
inside my head while rambling scribbles
push me in spirals. Sometimes 
the world hops out of view.

What is life, if there is no afterlife?
A prefix for nothing, a start missing 
an ending, a fire extinguished.
What is life without a spark – divine 
or otherwise – to brighten dark?

We live, we love, we work, we die, 
circles overlapping as we mark time 
like fireflies savoring the dusk, aware
that night must inexorably snuff 
the light we flash for as long as we can.

The sunlight tickles the curtains on its way
to our bed. I catch sight of her
still asleep. I wonder if her cheeks glow
from the sun or from something winsome
warming her from the inside.

I swing my feet to the floor, facing the day
or whatever may barrel headfirst 
before night, realizing life isn’t meaningless 
for those we share meaning with. 

© 2019 Phillip Knight Scott

This poem and many others are available in my collection of poems, Paint the Living, Plant the Dead, available now on Amazon.

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