when my skin feels like happiness

There’s at least 5 boys 10 and under playing in the narrow hallway that connect our rooms.

there’s an unsupervised toddler, being shocked by the findings of his explorations - therefore inevitably crying every 10-15mins. 

there’s a cycle of shouting - because kids echo what they see - and communication in households such as ours involve more primitive grunting and handling than anything else. 

there’s a stream of laughing coming from the living room downstairs. The weekend brings a harem of tenants - staying to cut down on the commute from where they live to where they work play and socialize.

my aunt, who is hard of hearing, looking for the baby oil she left in the bathroom, her voice nearly a shout, her patience and temper short, bustling around before dislodging the tent she has up in the backyard - where she has been sleeping temporarily - a necessary collapse as we don’t need any more attention from housing to prompt eviction.

all of this we carry every day we wake up, before we leave our front door.

and yet i still found a way to wake up and feel so blessed that every inch of my skin feels orgasmic.

and I’m sick too - having caught another cold from one of my nephews in the house. 

im sick Ive slept uncomfortably - but i woke up glowing. 

even with my eyes closed trying to relish in more sleep, there’s a smile that starts from the inside and makes its way out when i hear that baby cry outside my door, when i hear the bustling around the house, the fan in the bathroom that probably circulates more funk than It dilutes, the yelling of adults mentally worn down by their psychological circumstances, in the midst of chaos, I’ve found Joy.

i feel completely aligned. 

it gta be that meditation.