How much rest did you get this week?
And how much of it actually reached you.
The hours are there.
You sat down.
You went to bed.
On paper.
It should have worked.
And something in you is still waiting for rest to start.
There is a chair.
Or a bed under you.
Holding some of your weight.
Not all of it.
Somewhere between your hips and your shoulders,
Muscles are still doing the work of keeping you up.
Quietly.
Out of habit.
They have been at it since morning.
And nobody told them the day was over.
That is why rest has not landed.
It keeps arriving and finding nowhere to come down.
Nothing lands on something that is still holding itself up.
So hand it down.
A little at a time,
The weight of your head goes into your neck.
Your neck gives it to your shoulders.
Your shoulders let it fall into your back,
And your back hands it to the chair,
Nothing to loosen,
Only passing it down.
Until what is under you does the work instead.
Three sentences,
Say them under your breath in your own time.
I have been carrying my own weight all day.
The chair can hold what I have been holding.
Rest does not need my help to work.
Before you get up.
Leave your weight where you put it Nothing was fixed here.
You stopped holding yourself up for a minute,
And rest had somewhere to land.
