Risen

(You get a moment’s reprieve. News is good from the various ends of your outstretched fingertips. The pulsating heart in your chest, which for days has lied splayed open to the elements, gathering dirt and stinging with the open air on its sticky blood, covers itself, if only a little. You remember to breathe, to rest. It is too soon yet to know what you learned from this moment. Tonight, simply close your eyes, let yourself sleep the sleep that calls no names in the night. Leave it be.)