Finding Balance

I wake up lying on my back
with sunlight pouring down
on my face and the murmur of
the running water close by.
There is a brilliant ache
in my optic nerve
and a steady, painful throbbing
at the base of my skull.
 
I hear a distant thunder
of the approaching migraine.
So, I rolled on to sit upright
tucking my head between my knees.
The first heavy breaths felt like
someone has put a steel wedge
between my rib cage.
So, I groaned through the pain
and forced my eyes to open.
And they barely opened as I squint,
squeezing the light to pass through
as if performing Young's double-slit experiment.

 
My left eye dwelling and riding the waves,
and the right eye propelled with infinite particles
forming a contorted haze on my retina.
My first attempt at getting up,
the knees crumbled and I sat down.
Another push and at the second attempt
I succeeded, back on the two feet,
wobbly but standing on the ground
a pitching deck beneath my feet.
I turn slowly, my feet shuffling and wide
and awake, to find balance.