Then, you move a finger. Then, a toe. Then, against every logical warning your body screams, you stand up.
Think of the boxer who gets cut above the eye in the third round. The blood obscures his vision. The referee offers a towel. But he spits out his mouthguard, blinks the red away, and taps his gloves together. He is not fighting to win the trophy anymore. He is fighting because standing upright, in front of the roaring crowd, is the only proof that he is still alive. To walk while wounded is a quiet act of insurrection. herido pero aun caminando
So if you are reading this with an old ache, a fresh betrayal, a tired body, or a spirit running on fumes—good. You are in the right place. Then, you move a finger
Herido, sí. Pero aún caminando.