In the quiet of the darkness
the evening grows long
as the sun sets early
and the temperature drops.
My eyelids droop deeply
searching the escape of sleep.
I seek out a distraction to stay awake,
a podcast, an audiobook, social media….
In the quiet of the darkness
I find warmth under my Grandmother’s quilt.
Eyes closed, sleep now escapes me
as the film of my life plays and replays.
You in a starring role feel so close.
So many questions remain
although the tears have long dried.
I drift off to sleep.
In the quiet of the darkness
a train rhythmically rattles by,
a Carolina Wren sings her song.
Morning has come too soon.
I'm actually learning to enjoy my quiet. There is no TV noise. No one is complaining. I'm not mindlessly following the schedule of someone else - I eat when I want, sleep when I want, go out when I want, etc.
But the evenings and nights are still so long. My eyes droop before the clock even reaches 7:00 p.m. Am I really tired? Or am I just seeking escape from my mind wandering? I know part of it is that over the last few months my body has decided I will wake up at 4:30-5am most mornings. If I sleep in all the way to 6, it feels like a miracle. And so when I'm getting up that early, my body is naturally going to be tired earlier. But I don't think that's all of it.
There's just something about the darkness that makes the stillness a bit harder. And interestingly, for all the struggle I have to stay awake until what I consider a reasonable enough bedtime, once my head hits the pillow, my brain goes into overdrive and I am no longer sleepy.
So this poem above started forming in my head this morning at 4:30 a.m. as I knew I was too awake to fall back asleep again but wasn't quite ready to crawl out of bed.
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