Weighted Sunrise

I could use a break from pain that doesn’t risk addiction. It would be nice to wake up and not feel my back. Not feel my nerve-damaged leg. Not feel the grinding of joints that have run out of cartilage. Not feel the scrape of bone on bone.
But that kind of break could cost me much more. It could cost me my mental state. It could cost me my agency. It could cost me my family, my freedom — eventually my life.
I could use a break from having to lean on philosophy just to get through the day. A break from rationalizing this pain as the price I have to pay for another sunrise. The price I had to pay to still be walking.
I could use a break from the guilt I carry. The guilt of feeling like men who would have done more with their lives than I am doing with mine didn’t get to come home. The guilt of receiving help from my government when men who came before me — men who endured things that make my journey look like a pleasure cruise — never got the help they deserved.
I could use a break.
But the price of that break is too high.
The tear rolling down my cheek and the space to vent has been my break. If you’ve taken this break with me, thank you.

MicG