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1
Night
turned to one side,
then the other,
and grew weary.
Why wait any longer
for sleep that refuses to come?
I began to dig into myself.
Digging and digging,
before I knew it,
Dawn arrived.
Let me see
two lines of poetry,
Four drops of tears
had surfaced.
I gathered them into my palms.
The tears I kept with me;
the poetry
I gave away.
2
With eyelids shut,
I lay awake
till past midnight.
The sleep that was meant to come
lost its way somewhere
and vanished into darkness.
Old memories came charging in
some victories,
some defeats.
I began to count
which were more,
which fewer.
Before the reckoning could end,
morning arrived.
I closed the account,
straightened the bed.
3
With legs and wings folded in,
I lay still.
That deceptive sleep
it came like this
and went like that.
Behind closed eyes,
a pinch of sleep,
a fistful of wakefulness
I kept swaying between the two.
What could I do,
before anything became clear?
Just like that,
Dawn broke.
4
Giving tired eyes
a little rest,
I closed my lids
and lay down.
Tick. Tick. Tick
Time kept walking on.
No drowsiness,
no sleep.
Who will call sleep
that has come up to the doorstep
and stopped at the threshold?
Night… darkness…
I am exhausted from walking and walking
no strength to open my eyes,
no patience to stretch my hands.
I lay still, like stone.
Darkness and night
stood by me
on either side,
companions,
a kind of solace.
Inside me, blood keeps flowing.
Breath keeps moving.
Nothing stops for anyone.
The walk must go on.
A moment early or late,
dawn will not fail to arrive.
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Image Copyright - Varala Anand |
