03/16/2026
Just one day at a time.
Every morning, a cold wall is used as a crutch,
As baby blue Hyers encapsulate trembling feet.
I have never felt more than the weight of my physical being,
Until thirteen months ago and my mind outweighed it ten-fold.
Now the wall means more than just support for my aching body.
It is seemingly strong—covered by drywall, texture and paint,
But just like we know what makes up a human
We know the math of the studs and the wire.
Beneath the eggshell finish and the family photos,
There is a skeleton of pine and a pulse of copper—
Hidden, silent, and structural.
I lean my shoulder against the cool, flat white,
Comparing my mystery to its certainty.
The rheumatologist spoke in negatives:
No inflammation in the blood,
No markers for the fire in my nerves,
No evidence for the way the air hurts my skin.
But the horses still stamp in the pre-dawn chill,
Their breath blooming like ghosts in the barn,
Unaware that the hands tossing the hay
Are vibrating at a frequency the machines can’t hear.
The girls are a gravity I cannot escape,
Their laughter is a sweetness that tastes like exhaustion.
Thirteen months of carrying a mind
That has grown heavier than the bones it inhabits.
I am a house that passed inspection
While the foundation is secretly turning to sand.
One day at a time, I mimic the wall.
I hold the roof up because the roof must be held.
I wear the paint, the texture, the “fine,”
While my blueprint rewritten in a language
The doctors haven’t learned to read yet.
