Heavy Eyelids

Ana P. Rose

Tiny bricks hang from my eyelids.
I open my eyes at the crack of dawn.
I blink once, twice, thrice.
Can’t shake the bricks off.
Muscles ache.
Pushed through a workout.
Against the wind.
Treading against water.
The time passes by slowly.
But I made it anyway.
My soul carries too many bricks to care for,
“I’m proud of myself!”
Instead, I thank God for the workout.
The health, spiritual, and mental exercise.
The muscles of life ache more and more.
Darts penetrate my heart.
Yet this is the art of life.
It’s not me against the world.
It’s not the world against me.
No one is out to get me.
It’s merely the process of life.
It’s easier without an illness.
But illness is just a heavier bench press.
Rinse, Repeat, and believe.
I thank God for the workout.
The health, spiritual, and mental exercise.

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