From a Night With Lost Sleep

The large stone head moved its

gaping eyes and mouth and sang,

“I’m so sad, I’m so sad,”

while oceans of sorrow washed

over me, through me

I cried for the lost boy

who went down, so rapidly,

into the clear blue water,

faster than I could dive after —

another one gone —

“I’m so sad,” sang his remaining brothers

(he hadn’t been the first)

I woke up remembering

the story pieces that had tried

to weave themselves into me

as I tried to escape them in sleep —

kept me awake trying to catch me

while I tried to sink away

into the precise colors of winter grasses

and windswept trees

I woke again, and saw

my mind had solved it:

I told myself a sad story, that’s all.

Told myself a sad story, and believed it.

That’s all, nothing I need to fix,

nothing that my earnest living 

won’t put right.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 27, 2015