Sleep doesn’t listen to my imperial voice
My room is heavy with darkness like a gorilla
The roads are quiet, the trucks are still asleep
Making me the only one awake in the world.
Words exist in the mind, fear exists in the mind
It disturbs, rankles, cries, implies uncomfortable positions
Hinders all my relaxation techniques
Hours pass slowly as if dawn will never come.
But when I fall asleep all the barriers disappear
Succession of events are so precise
Like a diabetic starts with a drop of blood then insulin
Continuous, seamless, soft gaze of a mist.
What is sleep?
Is it just withdrawal of all sensations?
What is dreaming?
Distant footsteps cradle my nights
I can “hear them from miles away.”
Reasonance that expands, singular tales
of a long journey. Nights with hours of felicity,
darkness stream with graciousness
and comfort my eyes, memory
of a nomadic caravan I glimpsed
once and heard, “each step stitched
the walking earth… a millennia of repetition,
a sound of sorrow and hope and loss
and desire: the sound of walking”
as if the fairies visit me to sleep.
note: The poem’s title is a quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson.
The other quotations are from the book, Walking With Abel, Journeys with Nomads of the African Savannah, by Anna Badkhen
Celebration: It’s the Sixth Year Anniversary of Collage of Life.
A Ylang-Ylang flower for you.
note: photo is from:
I don’t know if ylang-ylang grows in Vietnam.