Anything But Insomnia (Poem)

Last night, rather this morning, my poetical divas Rebecca Dupas, Shelly Bell, & I were up at the buttcrack of dawn on Twitter. And being the poetical masterminds that we are, we started talking about poetical prompts. The prompts were:

1. I lay awake wondering.

2. Sleep don’t come easy.

3. Counting sheep.

4. 4am.

5. Not until I write.

6. The women who could not sleep.

7. Let’s not call it insomnia.

8. The last time I dreamed.

9. If I close my eyes…

So, off to sleep we eventually went, but woke up this morning with the will to write what we discussed. It is amazing to see the angle that we all took with the same prompt. Below is my take on the situation titled “Anything but Insomnia” . CLICK HERE to get Rebecca Dupas’ version. CLICK HERE for Shelly Bell’s poem.

Oh yeh, if you feel inspired by the prompts….write a poem and put the link in the comment box below so that we can become inspired by your work as well.

Enjoy!

~*Anything but Insomnia.*~

I lay awake wondering why sleep don’t come easy

Counting sheep is pointless at 4am

Heavy eyelids, teary eyes

Yawn-filled breaths

Hours past exhausted

But a subtle fight in me won’t let me rest

Won’t let me tango with the cousin of death

And I’ve got reasons why I am wide awake

Wondering why sleep don’t come easy

Why counting sheep is pointless at now 5am

To a black woman who has never touched a sheep

This is the problem that will never end

Restlessness will never be my friend

Some people started believing in counting this metaphor

Not knowing what it was

But I can’t continue counting it because

I know

And I wonder

Why things I have not

Or may never touch

Get permission to be higher than me

Jumping over me

And I’m supposed to keep count

Where is the hope in that?

Redundant pushes on the merry-go-round

Dizzy at the constant batting of my eyelids

Whirlwind conclusions shaped like squares

To my worldly problems

And I just can’t focus on this mess if I am asleep

Need more awareness when tip toeing around cow chips

Excuses for why I am afraid to dream have long been put out to pasture

But let’s not call it insomnia

Call it soul searching

Call it talking with God

Call it anything but what it is

My fear to close my eyes and meet darkness

Reality never lies to you behind your eyelids

Presents to you the truth

And I’m not ready to talk to myself

Not ready to be a sleeping beauty

When the truth under these covers are often ugly

Because my problems have ways of making me listen

Brings my fears to the forefront

Searching for metaphorical definitions

Through a subconscious haze

I don’t care about the door and why I didn’t walk through it

The faceless man on top of me

The strange fruit served for dinner

Or the color blue’s connection to my fate

I just care about why my face is allergic to this pillow

Why the troubles of the world have me upright

Feeling like

If I close my eyes

I will have given up on the fight

Stretch my arms reaching for another hour

Get back in the ring

Determined

More than adamant on the fact that

The backside of the sun

Shouldn’t see the Day’s business like this

Bare

Stressed

No make-up

But real

No pretense

Exposed

Underdeveloped in a black room

During God’s hours hoping to hear a word

A sign of the beginning

Clarity sent on the wings of a verb

‘Cause I know I cannot go to sleep

Not until I write

Pen the answer to Today’s prayers

Postdate Tomorrow’s testimony

Hoping my dreams won’t bounce

Solutions will not come back void

For I’ll have to repeat it again tomorrow

Lay awake wondering why sleep don’t come easy

Why counting sheep is pointless at now 6am

Explaining to the Day that I just couldn’t sleep

Pinky swearing that the Moon knows nothing of its trials

Handing over an empty dream catcher as proof

Given Day’s permission to search for a solution

‘Cause my problems have a first name

But let’s not call it insomnia

Sincerely, 

~2Deep~