I taped the window when the winter came, It still shook loose whenever the wind changed. Work dust settled in the lines of my hands; I counted coins and made another plan. Some nights, dinner was the first thing I cut. I learned to sleep before the hunger woke up. Kept a clean shirt hanging by the door— Something worth getting ready for. Some mornings, hope was hard to find; I tied my shoes and took my time. I held the rail and caught my breath, Then found the strength for one more step. I’m still on my way, still on my way, Taking what I can from another day. When the road runs long and the light runs thin, I’ve got enough left to begin again. These hands still shake, these shoes wear through, There’s a life I want to walk into. I can take my time, I can learn to bend— I’ve got enough left to begin again. I wore that clean shirt halfway across town, Sat with my name on a list, then got turned down. Outside, I watched the buses come and go. I called a friend and let the whole thing show. He let me talk without a speech to give, Asked if I’d eaten, asked where I’d been. I heard my voice say, “Could you meet me here?” He said, “Of course.” I watched his bus appear. We split a meal and made a plan; I felt the warmth come back into my hands. When morning came, the rent was still unpaid— But I picked up the phone and tried again. I’m still on my way, still on my way, Taking what I can from another day. When the road runs long and the light runs thin, I’ve got enough left to begin again. These hands still shake, these shoes wear through, There’s a life I want to walk into. I can take my time, I can learn to bend— I’ve got enough left to begin again. The first spare money went to fixing glass. I stood there waiting for the usual draft. Rain ran down the other side that night; I slept till morning for the first time in a while. There’s still a lot I haven’t figured out. Some days, that old fear gets loud. But now, when someone asks me how I’ve been, I take a breath and let them in. I’m still on my way, still on my way, There’s room for tomorrow in the plans I make. When the road runs long and the light runs thin, I know where to turn to begin again. These hands can mend what the years wore through, And reach for a hand when they need one too. I can take my time, I can trust a friend— I’ve got enough left to begin again. I washed that shirt and hung it out to dry. Opened the window, let the morning inside. Before the day could ask what I could do, I stood there breathing for a minute or two.
