Still Learning To Rise

Still Learning To Rise 3:17 AM, the highway's bare, the heater's dead, the air is cold. My knuckles ache from holding the wheel, a coffee ring stained where my thumb once pressed. Green lights I don't recognize — every one says I'm supposed to go. Cold hands on the wheel, I pass them all and wait for the road to tell me something I know. The gas station glow at 3:34, I buy another coffee, smile once more. "Thanks, The rain starts writing on the glass — I wipe it clean, but the past won't pass. Green lights I don't recognize — every one says I'm supposed to go. Cold hands on the wheel, I pass them all and wait for the road to tell me something I know. What if I pull over right now — kill the engine, step out in the rain? Let the water find the cracks in my skin, let the wind call me by my real name. Green lights I don't recognize — but I don't have to follow them all. Cold hands on the wheel — I pull to the side, turn the heat on, and I breathe through the fall. 3:17 AM... the road is bare... but the heat is on. I'm here.