Image from davejdoe
Day three of feeling, with a lack of better word,
like shit.
Every facial orifices going to explode.
Nose, threatening to burst off,
eyes, blood shot,
and the pressure in the ears that alternate between pressing in and popping out.
The throbs of the head. Heavy rain.
The first that I feel the distinction of my eyebrow, the arch and the brow bone.
I couldn’t turn my head so much without feeling my brain might just not turn in time.
If there wasn’t a skull, it might just splatter like tofu.
Cups of cinnamon-pepper tea, mint-pepper tea,
honey lemon tea, chinese herbal flu tea and salt gurgle.
Looking up, it feels like somebody just land a punch on my eye.
The night before, restful night perhaps,
if you discount the interim of waking up.
As if I was rested enough, but still without the strength
to stay fully awake.
Eleven, it is still raining outside.
My body mimicking the weather.
Yearning to step afoot, into the rain, spiraling and sing.
Yet I couldn’t even dance, haven’t been for two days,
due to the soreness around the sacral and thoracic.
And to think, I’m a certified yoga teacher, bogged with all these.
But yoga, doesn’t make one omnipotent, despite mass marketing.
And to reemphasize, yoga is more than the physical.
Because I’m practice yoga, I know to take my rest,
to listen to my body. And not to slog off, whirring in the insanity
of the gold rush.
I’m still human, going through bouts of immunity exercises,
or so I hope. The muscles that don’t work atrophy, and
so must be the case for our immunity.
A day off, a book in hand. Just lazing around, no work.
The body becomes stronger when it is given a day of rest,
Our body is adaptable, and we need no science to prove it.
Feel it, alive and healthy, mostly.
But for today, I’m resting. Relaxing, without the buzz in my head
and the rush to achieve.
Because my body tells me to.
And it feels so good too.
Wing's Footprint 