Weighted.

Enveloped by the blanket of poverty.

Not warm, comforting, safe … but smothering and itchy

Woven from worry wool.

Weighted and waiting.

Existing not living.

Sharp fibres seep inside your skin

Become a part of you

You are the blanket.

 

Waiting.

Dormant, your suspended life silent and still.

Not the hush of hope … but deafening despair

Created with despondency and judgement.

Waiting and weighted.

Watching not living.

Silence of sorrow for self,

Self-worth, self-esteem, self-confidence

All slumbering

You are the silence.

 

And then.

Pinpricks of insistent hope

Prod

Poke

This will pass.

Dormant life awaken

Possibilities beckon.

Shrug away the blanket, sing into the silence

I am alive.