And When You Wake,,,,

You wake in a dark cell
and your first thought is surrender,
of the bliss of no longer being in the battle,
of the peace of it.

But surrender is not in you,
and you begin your breakout silently,
taking stock, eyes closed
in prayer that looks to the outside, like sleep.

But it is not.
It is preparation for war.
For battles are not meant to be fought,
they are meant to be won.

About this poem. 

Each morning when I wake, I meditate. I lay in bed, eyes closed, and feel, really feel, every part of my body. I begin with each toe, my feet, ankles.. slowly scanning every joint and muscle. It gives me an awareness of the now.

It is the start of my breakout into the day. And once done. I lay still, and pray. For others. For myself. And thus armed, I get up, full of something beyond myself, which is what I need.

I look like I am sleeping. I am not. I am girding for war. Focusing my strength, gathering my ally. Preparing.

The photograph is of an art installation at the Cochoran Gallery. Silly me forgot to shoot the artist’s tag (which I ALWAYS do) so I can’t recall the name or artist.

Tom