Breathing, barely,

and pulsing and aching and striving and turning and being present to others because that proves that I exist and waiting so patiently behind my mask which is covered with flowers and vines and fruit so that it is no mask at all.

Breathing, barely, but I know that that is “sunshine” and this is “soft dog” and somehow I still have hope because I have tried the alternative and I’m done with that nonsense.