There is a cake I made on the table,
a glaze of sheep milk and
honey drizzled down the sides.
There are enough chairs to
seat all the insecurities you hold,
but only two chairs will be satisfied today.

Breathe in, the patched sheets on your bed
are becoming stale and attached.
The curtains don't like hanging alone,
the light wants in.

Come on, your windows need to breathe, so do you.
Outside the ocean is breaking upon the rocks,
you still wonder if she gives birth every time.
Whales lie beached, seals crawl
on their deep bellies, turtles come home.

Breathe out, there is hot tea waiting for you,
in a mug made for your hands alone.
Listen, tell all your broken pieces 
that day will still rise even when
the sun is crying.

Come on,
the table is expectant.
You have drank your tea,
the sunshine
is full in your belly.
The cake begs for forks and plates,
the chairs sit, gently
against the wood floor.
The sun is still rising,
the glaze of morning pink
traverses the tree tops
and mountain breasts.

You have time,
pick yourself up.
You have so much time.
Restart your heart, 
dust off your chest...
let's go.