I sit on the bed, feeling a rain-scented breeze playing with the curtains. The night has overcome the day, and we are deeply grateful for the inauguration of this new power; the gravity which tugs at our eye-lids and slows our breath down. I’m tired. Above everything, the feeling of being tired has won the votes and officially represents the party of Moi. I’m tired.
Today I was especially tired. And many different kinds of tired too.
The dull blade of someone’s hurting actions stuck on repeat.
The exhausting call to get up again and again and again, despite the fact that you know the knocks will keep coming, faithful as taxes.
The blindness of people’s eyes in whom you wish you could depend on.
The shadow of an oncoming train of events and work to do which you have no idea how you’ll finish.
The energy-consuming fight for another’s life.
All the failed battles, the un-finished endings, the lost moments and disappointed fractions add up to a tall order of a low tank. I knew I was running low on fuel, and nobody else seemed to have any spare.
Except one. And she was willing to fill up and lift up.
I sit on the bed and fall into the pool of sleep I need so dearly to drown in. And I thank my God for sending me a candle on a dark road…just to keep me going. Just enough for me to see what steps I need to take ahead of me. Just enough to carry on tomorrow.