Day by Day

Some days I wake up heavy,

like the air forgot how to lift me.

My smile shows up late,

and my thoughts speak louder than I want them to.

I’m not okay

but I’m still here.

I drink my coffee slow,

tie my shoes anyway,

tell myself: just today.

Not the whole future,

not the mess of yesterday

just this breath,

this step,

this minute.

Some days healing looks like survival,

and that has to be enough.

I’m learning that progress

doesn’t always feel like hope

sometimes it feels like choosing

to stay,

to try,

to move forward quietly.

Day by day,

even when the light is dim,

I carry myself through

with shaking hands

and a stubborn heart.