In moments of suffering

 In moments of suffering,

cling to yourself. Care for yourself.
I wake up to my day and look into my guts, knowing they want to tell me something isn’t right.
I look out the window and, as I run my hand across it, the fine layer of condensation reveals a marvelous city.
My stomach tightens.
I look in the mirror and give myself a hug, because in moments of suffering, I cling to me.
I care for me.
I worry about understanding what’s happening inside.
It’s hard to read the ocean, even more so one we carry within our depths.
And little by little, as the day passes and night falls, telling us another day has faded away,
I find refuge in a voice that no one else hears, whispering, "tomorrow will be another day of opportunities."
Because in moments of suffering, many versions of myself remind me I’ve been in deeper holes,
that I’ve kissed devils whose desire was to deceive me.
And little by little, as the dawn breaks again and unveils that city still equally marvelous,
I wake up thinking I am not the same,
that I find a legend in the cartography of my ocean to understand myself.
I thank myself and give another caring hug.
In moments of suffering,
cling to yourself. Care for yourself.