upon waking,
upon first sinking
into your favourite chair
and stilling, perhaps stalling
the violent onset of the day’s demands.

See no quick fix,
no bottled magic to dissuade
the toxic vultures circling
from preying, beaks barbed  
before that first splash of caffeine

baptises your inertia
plunging you down further
into the land of the living. Dwell here—
inhale peace ’til pulsing panic heels.
Good dog.

Pacifists with passive fists
may speak of peace whilst waging
war on their resolve to
receive respite care. Raging
I ask myself, “Are we all so stuck?”

I ask my soul.
I ask the hard–won trophies of my heartache.
I ask the rotting cabinets of former glory.
Empty 
I consult with the dust.

I ask anyone who’ll listen,
“What must I do?”

“Receive love,”
springs Love’s reply.
Resounding and re–sounding
over and over
and over again.

I am learning—
slowly,
clumsily,
dependently,
imperfectly—
to resist my resistance.