In the wee hours of midnight,
My limp and frail body
Looks at the clock ticking on the wall,
While it surrenders
To the golden sunshine of another day.
I sit downstairs, alone with the midnight clock
And the unborn angel in my belly,
Listen to the rocking and weeping
And lullabies of my older angel upstairs.
Groping in the darkness of the room
I listen to her, smell the autumn air
As she breaks in sobs and unknown delight
Clinging to her papa and her midnight dreams.
One foot already in the sand of sleep,
One at the edge of waiting,
I sit downstairs, feeling the wind and water
Of an unread poem by my muse,
Echoing my name in midnight chill.
Nestled in a heaven of unspoken words and journeys
I sit here in my room, alone with midnight
With the rising wind sighing outside window panes.
I sit here, while dawn breaks out,
My sleeping world rushes downstairs
Together we breathe the pure morning air.
Till then, I bid adieu to the midnight clock
Ticking on the wall,
I lay down on the brink of another life
Smelling its wind and water in distant dreams.
I bid adieu till I rise like a phoenix again.
I’m all burnt out in the midnight chill,
Till I rise again in smoke and fire
Of the sunshine of another day.
Footnotes: Just a passing thought, mostly in fragments of a jumbled up, narcotic mind which stayed awake like a nocturnal animal well past midnight. Written during fall 2010, when I was late into my second pregnancy, already a mother of our two year old daughter.