Rising slowly,
On a bed of clouds.
Surrounded by the sunshine that is warming my bare feet.
Pain still stirs in my gut,
Today is a day where I face reality.
I believe in the power of spiritual healing and growth.
My hair is strung around,
Wild and preciously framing my naked face.
I prop myself up, as the morning and the world waken.
Although my day won't be filled with the children I see daily,
And the instruction I give,
I refuse to be anything but productive.
My soul thrives off of productivity.
I sing into the cold autumn breeze.
She carries my song,
To motivate another.
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