After the Op


I wake to the silence of home.

No beeps, no distant voices

in corridors, no professional footsteps.

Just the deep quiet of the countryside,

which unnerved me when we first moved

to the middle of nowhere, but now feels

centred and safe.  The birds warming up

for dawn.  Each note a bubble floating

into the light.  A chord that chimes

with the promise of a beautiful August day,

and I realise I have slept a sleep

so deep and delicious,

so free from the whisper of pain,

that I am filled with a strange kind of song.

No tune, no words,

just grateful.


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