Mornings are hardest: you wake,

remembering, but not believing,

painfully convincing yourself again and again

that the impossible really is true.


Then through the hours you build your lifeboats,

clinging to technical things, understanding details.

Persuading yourself that knowledge is good and useful,

that you have some control, some role.


Mornings are hardest: you wake

crying from nightmares not as bad as the reality

you have to believe again and again

really is real.


Then through the days you build your lifeboats,

studying medical terms and prognosis,

explaining the mysteries to yourself and others

as if you have some power, some role.


Morning are the hardest, you wake

with sadness weighing down your limbs

and bones convince brain again and again

that the preposterous is fact.


Then through the weeks you build your lifeboats

not looking far ahead or behind,

focusing on the hour, the day

as if not thinking too much will take it away.

Nyborg 2016

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