Zebra Seeking Spoons

The body became

a map with no legend,

roads curling inward,

places that once opened

now closing without sound.

She wakes

into a war no one sees,

the quiet battles

fought beneath skin,

where pain blooms

without permission.

Doctors speak

in fragments—

maybes,

could bes,

long pauses filled

with staring.

Friends drift,

their words

too light,

too loud,

offering cures

like candy

to a famine.

She learns

to measure days

in spoons,

to celebrate

a shower,

a walk to the mailbox,

breath held

like fragile glass.

Invisible,

but not imagined.

Rare,

but not alone.

She becomes

a quiet resilience,

a stillness

that burns

without flame.