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My limbs move slow they don’t feel mine
Like borrowed shapes in borrowed time
I feed I dress I comb my hair—
But nothing brings me fully there
I see my hands and feel no name
My skin forgets it once knew flame
The body I should call my own—
Feels like a guest I’ve never known
But healing is a home return
A way to feel to breathe to learn
The touch the stretch the sound the song—
Can reawaken what’s been gone
So if I seem a step away
Don’t press me into full display
Just know I’m gently on the track—
Of coming home and coming back
