Poetry: two years in

two years in

sometimes I get mad at my body

for not being able to run up stairs

for not being able to dance

for not being able to hike

for not being able to go to a job interview and a festival

in the same weekend or even week

and then I remember

the times it’s kept going despite being about to shut down

how my body has refused to give up on me,

even when I have given up on myself

and then I run a bath

I stretch

I breathe

and the next day my body and I, we try again.

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