Fitful Waking

Eyes fly at half mast

in the hours

long before dawn.

Sleep was fitful,

unrestful.

A place of dark dreams,

fraught with memories.

 

Outside,

that bitter hand is setting in.

The cold.

The abandoned.

The calamity.

 

Like deep personal loss,

we can never be ready for it.

Like intense pain,

our minds occlude

all memory of it.

 

I am sure,

if we could recall

even a tenth of our misery,

we would all be mad.

Maybe we all went mad

long ago

 

Could that be

why this,

first, dark morning of winter

feels like a nightmare?

 

HG – 2019

One thought on “Fitful Waking

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s