ramadan on site. noon sun. no water till sunset. foreman offered shade break. took it. faith and framing both need structure. guys asked quiet questions. i answered honest. construction crew respect is built not given. the day did not end so much as fade into errands and small repairs. i answered messages i had avoided and avoided one that mattered. dinner was whatever was fastest without being cruel to my future self. tomorrow's list already looks like today's with different verbs. a stranger was kind in a minor way that stuck to my mood for hours. work left residue on my shoulders i tried to shrug off in the shower. the news was loud so i turned it off and listened to ordinary sounds instead: pipes, neighbors, my own breathing returning.
Framing Walls With Dust in My Lungs and Prayer on My Tongue
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Framing Walls With Dust in My Lungs and Prayer on My Tongue
Ramadan on site. Noon sun. No water till sunset. Foreman offered shade break. I took it.
Faith and framing both need structure.
The crew asked quiet questions. I answered honest. Construction respect is built, not given.
Dust in my lungs. Prayer on my tongue. The wall rose anyway.
Sunset water tasted like victory and mercy in the same cup.
The story continues in the body after the words stop. Shoulders lower, or they do not. Tomorrow arrives with its own list. I am still here, which is not nothing.
I do not need a moral. I need an honest next step. Sometimes that is rest. Sometimes it is showing up again before you feel ready.
The story continues in the body after the words stop. Shoulders lower, or they do not. Tomorrow arrives with its own list. I am still here, which is not nothing.
I do not need a moral. I need an honest next step. Sometimes that is rest. Sometimes it is showing up again before you feel ready.
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