Surviving the Ordinary

Some mornings

the heart wakes up tired

before the body even moves.

We sit on the edge of the bed,

thinking about everything

and nothing

at the same time.

We pour tea,

scroll through other people’s brightness,

and tuck away our own cracks

like loose threads in a pocket.

There is a soft ache

in pretending we’re fine,

in nodding politely at the world

while a small storm

paces behind our ribs.

But still,

we answer messages,

we show up,

we keep living

in these humble, fragile ways.

And somewhere between

a deep breath and the next step,

we realize

that surviving an ordinary day

is sometimes the bravest thing

a person can do.