Clarrie Kay Bee

Move

If I lever myself up on tiptoes and stretch

And strain further

And will the whiteness to my fingertips

And tell my head - do it!

If I squeeze one half opened eyeball open

And sneak a burned glance forward - 

Then yes

There is sunlight.

There is grass.

There is welcoming shade,

There is laughter and smiles and the gentle touch of shoulders

As friends nuzzle together a silent kinship.

 All of that is ahead. 

And you must not forget that right now,

As you feel the muddy chill of resignation

Try to wriggle its fingers behind your ribcage,

Lowering a ladder to disappointment and self doubt

And their long time companion:

Who really gives a fuck?

You do give a fuck. 

You are not made to squelch in a corner,

Like a deflated sofa, comfortable still,

But past its best.

Your best day has not yet been lived,

It is shining somewhere

And you won\'t even notice it when it comes

Because you\'ll be spinning in the glory of what you\'ve created

Out of you.

Your best day is not today.

But this is not your worst day either.

You can kick away the spindly ladders,

Tighten those fingertips,

Keep a crusted half eye on those little touches of the shoulder

And the sunshine that you can\'t yet feel on your bruised resistance to change.

Things have changed.

Discomfort will only deepen by standing still.

So batten down that crusted eye, slice your fingertips with effort

And move, for fuck\'s sake, move.