Day 121: Too Late to Sleep

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There was a time when rest would have been prudent,
when sleep could have nursed these ails
and repaired these strong and strained muscles.

Heart muscle pumping
so fiercely,
so long,
with so much coursing through
those delicate tissue chambers,
pump in –
pump out –

machinery
of breath and blood,
of life and love.

 

Could I have thought clearer?
Could I have blinked cleaner?
Could I have held more weight?
Could I have run farther?
if I’d claimed a moment of repose
in the days
that just flew past
like barn swallows,
chaotic and sharp,
in turns and juts,
darting from their nests,

but always on course.

When you’ve been up this long,
the length of up lays you down.

When you’ve stayed up this late,
it turns to “early,”
and you know it’s too late to sleep;

the glow-

the warmth-

up.

coming

is

sun

the

 

The eye that sees cannot close
against so many colors at dawn.

Today does not return it’s predecessor
nor will tomorrow delay for now.

I wake, without sleep, I wake.

 

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