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,
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.