I stealthily rise so as not to awaken my dear C-PAP masked husband.
No matter how hard I try to be quiet, 100% of the time, my right knee will crack
and inevitably signal that I am up,
having once again succumbed to the vagabond words and ideas
that held a clandestine meeting
during which they organized a 3AM flash mob in my brain.
As they dance across the neural highways between my ears,
I try in vain to memorize the motions, already having lain awake for an hour,
silently willing myself to release them en masse
into the cool blackness that fills the room.
With each exhale, I imagine them flitting like Monarchs
into a journal I’ll open in a just a few hours and read with surprise.
The big ones, problems I have absolutely no power to solve,
(yet encyclopedic in weight as they press on my chest),
I release for the ten thousandth time with a 12 step admission.
The heart doesn’t listen.
Stepping softly and gently closing the bedroom door,
I make my way to my office, bypassing the kitchen and coffee,
because it’s just too early yet.
I grab one of my journals and a pen and stare
at the mammoth emptiness of the page,
knowing I’ve been in this moment before and
will without doubt, be here again.