Sunday, 31 May 2009

Late night/early morning

Umm Junayd - because you asked so nicely (**Jazakh'Allah khair**)

This is basically the story of my life...

---Late night/early morning---

Tiredness is not in the head.
But rather in the feet that shuffle,
stumble over imagined cracks;
make body sway,
nautical shifts on solid ground.

In the eyes, 
robbed of day vision,
hollow and scratched by fatigue.
Seeing things others cannot
(their lack of existence a factor):
monkeys playing with watch hands,
friends past in cafe corners.

It is in the words
that come out (all wrong),
tangled and slurred,
bright-eyed but oblivious,
devoid of intended meaning.

It is in the truths
I'd rather not tell;
tumble from me,
full flood of revelation,
inhibition quelled by that lack of slumber.

Tiredness is, it seems, not my friend.
And yet, sleep is neither.
Battle, child-weary, 
night's rest that seeks to embrace me.
Surrender, finally - too late
to avoid the backlash of earlier avoidance.

1 comment:

  1. Who would have thought that such a striking poem could be written on tiredness? Mashaa`Allah, I'm hooked! Got a few words bubbling in my head now!