by A.J. Huffman
through early hours of unrest. My mind swims
a little harder towards awake, clings to inflated
images of tragedy. I am drowning in another
wave of wakefulness. This level is painted five
alarm red. Are they coming to take my body away?
I wonder at decibels far beyond appropriate.
Louder and louder, my thoughts and distant screamings
rage. I know I should plan, panic, run,
maybe even get out of bed, dressed. Flashing
crescendos. I roll over, bury my face
in pillows, relieved, but knowing
I am anything but safe.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
This poem really captures the moment and the emotions.
ReplyDelete