Friday, 31 December 2021
A poem for the cusp of time between the old year and the new. Who knows yet what 2022 will bring?
Insomnia
hours of lying awake
contemplating the night
the sounds, real and imagined
was that my wardrobe creaking
a bird outside waking from a dream
a ghost stalking around my mind?
Thoughts and memories
I never thought I'd revisit
steal unbidden into my consciousness
hurts suffered, traumas lived through
doors opened, doors closed
acquaintances made and lost
And then comes the epiphany
a lightning flash in my weary brain
It's life, it's what makes me human
a living entity whose story has held
more pain than joy, but somehow
I have managed to endure this long
still now clawing my way through
each day — each minute, each hour
As I lie here, cocooned in my duvet
exhausted yet unable to sleep
embraced by a feeling of
floating in warm melted butter
I treasure that I'm cosy and safe
while counting sheep, not outside
homeless sleeping in doorways or
beneath a hedge in a park somewhere
nor trying to find rest in a distant
war zone with the sound of gunshots
never far away; neither am I hungry
always searching for the next crust
These nighttime thoughts
that plague me and keep
me awake I know are both
a blessing and a curse
They are salient reminders
that I am lucky to be lying
here awake in the dark
contemplating the meaning of life
© Carola Huttmann, 31 December 2022
