Ain't it Grand to Be Alive?

Ain't it Grand to Be Alive?

I am alive.

Not because I

breathe.
Not because I

steep my tea

while washing

up last night’s

dishes. I am

alive not

because I eat

a bowl of bran

flakes even

when I realize

I’m out of

bananas to

slice on top.

I am alive

because I hurt.

I ache from

the places I

cannot steep.

The places I

cannot feed.

There, under

the protective

skin of me, I hurt.

And with each

electric shock or

dull pulse of

discomfort, I

am reminded. I

am alive. I am.