A gratitude story-poem. PLUS! A resilience-building gift for YOU. For all seasons!
I woke up,
mornings.
My sky,
blinding aura.
My head as
icepicks hammering.
Sweat,
frozen feet
as a limp doll
on the bathroom floor,
penance for
obeying the
God of
Endless
Doing.
Insides,
blindly following.
What have I done?
I've given myself
a chance
at perfect.
For that
painful respite,
I am grateful.
Is this like when people make lemonade from lemons? Yes, and lemonade from sugar, too. BOOM! Read on! 
