The Night

The night is a reprieve;

A time to repose, to retreat

And yet my eyes cannot close,

My mind: a wearisome load


Through the darkness,

I see shapes morphing and twisting

Taking some kind of body

My nightmares provide.


I feel the weight of my fatigue

At the small of my back

Where is the reprieve, the retreat,

the repose?


At least in the summer

I could hear the crickets and the flies,

But in the cold of winter,

Silence is the only companion.


I’m haunted by memories and phantoms

I used to know.

In the twisting of my heart and the convulsions

Of my soul

Sometimes I feel there is no retreat.

No reprieve.

No repose.


Nesha Usmani



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