When your life loses meaning and your heart is numb,
carry yourself to the kitchen.
Find bread. Slot it into the toaster with unsure hands. No one
expects elegance of you when you hurt this way.
Carry the kettle to the sink. Breathe gently.
Elsewhere, people whisper that you have lost your footing.
Boil water, take down a chipped mug, and watch thoughts of death disperse.
No one can pass judgement on you here.
Scrape butter onto toast. Inhale the smell. Do not scold
the crowded ache in your head, or the tremor in your hands.
Let them fall among the crumbs on the counter, and sweep them away.
Drop a teabag into water. Breathe curling steam. Do not expect
to solve every heartache that finds you at every turn.
Drink the cloud of warmth from your cup instead, and think of nothing.
If you have no faith left in the return of happiness, eat, drink
and be merciful. Become a friend to yourself. Smile through the ache
and make a gift of simple, warm things that cannot judge.