The body remembers,
even when the mind tries to forget.
It hums again,
sparks again,
fires again—
like a storm clearing the static from the air.
I wake with proof of life
pressed against the morning,
a reminder that blood still runs,
that the pulse is louder now
than the silence ever was.
Once, sickness stole it all—
my strength, my sleep, my center.
But today the furnace burns clean,
the engine roars steady,
and the weight I carry feels
like training, not punishment.
This is recovery.
This is reclamation.
This is the body saying:
“I am not done.
I am alive.
I am back online.”
And somewhere in the quiet,
I wonder if you’d recognize
the fire that never fully went out—
the one that still knows your name
without needing to speak it.