I cannot get out of bed
I cannot get out of bed. I am able-bodied and breathing and I cannot get out of bed. I let the weight of the blanket sink me further into my mattress and start to involuntarily hold my breath. I am perfectly healthy, and yet something chemical in my brain has started to weaken my bones. I am absurdly aware of everything around me. I am also absurdly aware of what people like to refer to this feeling as. I do not want to be condemned to a life of therapy and countless bottles of pills, but I cannot get out of bed. The ceiling fan is on high speed, and I can see the day wasting away outside of my window. I can hear dogs barking and children scream-laughing all the way from my third story apartment. I imagine the lives all of these people are living; I wonder if the dogs are getting tired out in the sweltering summer heat, if the children are anxiously anticipating the start of school, if there are other people in this apartment building, who like me, cannot get out of bed. Everything around me stops for a moment, and I use this time to refocus my breathing. As the air fills my lungs, I realize my legs have gone numb. I also realize that if I do not leave this bed soon, I may never leave. That idea instills a terror in me I cannot describe. Suddenly, I have a thought that charges at me with immediate force: "You cannot stay like this." I use that little source of motivation to move my feet around in circular motions. I feel my legs regaining circulation, and know that this cannot be my reality forever, that if I ever want to be one of those people outside, walking my dog and soaking in the heat and scream-laughing, I have to move; quickly, before the chemical imbalance convinces me otherwise. With every force of strength inside of me, I stand up. The act of standing on my own two feet: so simple, and yet I am almost brought to tears. I got out of bed. I got out of bed.
Comments (14)
Such a short piece, yet it carries deep sorrow. I could feel the weight of history fading in just a few lines.
Simply lovely.
Beautifully written. You can almost feel the leaves falling with the way that you separate the “a” from the rest of the second line. Well done.
Well-wrought! The earth receives us all again in some way, with the stars as witness to our fall.
Oh my that's such a nice photo choice. Especially since the subject is far away, but still looks like the main focus. I do really really like that the leaves are considered, children, that are rusted gold. That they are stripped after they adorned the branches. Mother earth...or the mother tree waits until the leaves breath it's last under her. I love the last line. It's such a beautiful way to end this haiku. Beautiful yet sad. 👌🏾🤗❤️
Very earthy. Full of nurturance.
Moms are also waiting for their children no matter what kind of mom they may be. In this case Mom is the earth waiting for the leaves to fall and give nourishment to the earth. Good job and I think I read too much into this one.
Both sad and yet hopeful, well done
oh my. This is incredible. Great job, my friend.
Oh wow, when you put it that way, it sure seems sad. Loved your Haiku!
Excellent idea and execution. It's a really good poem, Lamar
Aww I felt this one deep in my heart! Stunning work! BRAVO Lamar! 💪🏾🎉
So haunting yet beautiful 🍂
Very unique take on the challenge. I like it.