Untitled #4

Last night I lay on my bedroom floor
dead. Dead, my head half in the tomb's core
ready for prayers and embalming and all of the awful,
necessary, awful mourning,
when a shard of musical light shone in between the slits in my wall
and hit my ears and tore
my chest and wore
me like a glove and ordered
my blood to beat! Slowly, but still! I had been so sure
I would be no more
but the blues restored
me to life and swore
I'd continue in spite of it all.