Time for sleep

I cry inside. I see the sky in robin’s egg blue. Things of old have turned to gold, unglittering. An alchemy, an accretion, to life’s masterpiece. I fear I’m being asked to sign my name. There are nodding heads, prayerful hands. But, layered sheets of sleep settle upon me. Soon.



I taped my mouth shut for ten years, ‘til a professional told me it was wrong, I should wean. There were pills, too, that hypnotized the disobedient sleep, then upsold themselves. On my knees, I considered cuts, and reached for a siren’s call. But here now today biding time.



Remember how to sing. If not, to hum, or whistle a waltz. Understand the beast, and restrain it with a stumbling spot dance. Think of your goodness, and not of your sin. Of the young, for they are short of life. Of your faith, or your doubt, and the quality of prayer.