Laying awake

A dear young friend lay awake this week 

I invited his macho-self to be a bit poetic ...reminding me of this poem I wrote a decade ago...I think it's pretty good...but you should always be wary of your own judgment

NIGHT'S MIDDLE

If I could live at night's middle

instead of running rather ragged

and drilling at the day

then my vision would be brighter

and the voice of God heard clear.

This morning, even,

the moon's fullest beam

shone bright as day.

total stillness

haunted dead trousers on the line

until the softness

of the Spirit's coolest breath

walked them gently

and I shuddered, not with fear

but with delight

as my too warm breast was cooled

by the lightest of touches.

Who can faint while such a zephyr

reminds me of my own aliveness.

I did not rise.

almost disciplined

to stay in bed

to the point of pain

lest, in embracing

the middle of the night,

I devoured the day

which still demands my full attention.

And so, I crept

as early as I could

to put pen to paper.

visions fleeing,

God's voice whispering

"Wiedersehen!"

and by a few lines,

the rising of the sun,

the plaintive magpie

and the start of the traffic

night's middle

had gone.

Written Feb 2006