I may not be asleep

Almost as if
to compensate
for the delicate fragility of life

or the deer-like, deft
fleet-footedness of days and years
that leap and run so swiftly
through our lives

the brain decides
to stay awake at
some unearthly hour
to let me hear the low, slow
crawl of seconds through the night.

"And this is your heart.
Did you feel the syncopated beat?
And now the red tide rises as the
blood runs down your
arteries and veins.”

Thankyou but I’d rather sleep.

"And now a second heartbeat. And a second tide
to reach down all the rivers to your fingers and your toes.
Are you ready for the third?"

Inside, the stalking fears
the what ifs, whens and why.
Outside, night noises that I never normally hear.

Through the secret hours of night
cats creep, moths sip nectar in the dark,
owls tune voices to the moon;
The big earth,
tossing slowly in its sleep,
turns towards the morning sun.

Then I read between the lines of thought,
the bubbling restlessness of head and heart
the anxious circling, vulture thoughts
with which I strive...

I may not be asleep
but, yes,
I’m very much alive.