Landscapes of the Mind - Poems

The Sleep

It waits behind my eyes

to knock me out cold, plunged deep

into its blackened waters ---

held under and made to forget 

the last dreaded hours.

For when I bury myself

in endless sheets and covers,

I sense it --- hung, suspended feet

above me, like a noose, or a pillow

ready to smother me asleep.

Oh, what I would give

to die in its arms, just for a while;

allow the day's last lamps to flicker out

and slide into unconsciousness

where nothing stirs.

Other times I like to pretend

that my bed is a boat

and the room a sea

to cradle me gently, lovingly

back and forth as I am carried away.

The endless seasons, darknesses

that stalk my waking life

no longer phase me in this

chamber in which I have locked

myself and thrown away the key.

There is a comforting reassurance

in knowing, being aware

that if I'm not permitted to die

I may at least surrender

to the sleep.