I have written another poem, which I wanted to share with all of you. I am like a giddy child lacking patience on her day for show-and-tell. Why should I hang onto this poem and post it next week, when I can post it now? My relationship with sleep has always been a bumpy one. In college it was rather romantic to stay up through the night reading literature and writing poems, but the love affair soon fizzled when I began working a job with standard hours. In this sabbatical year, I have swiftly fallen back into hold habits and am routinely up until 2am and wake around 10am. Ever so often, like last night, I go through the entire night without sleeping. I wrote "Finding Ease, Not Sleep" this afternoon.
Finding Ease, Not Sleep
by Lauren Taub Cohen
Another sleepless night
spent sifting through
thoughts and tracing
the edges of yesterday.
Fragments of memories
flicker in dawn’s
groggy light
like coruscating flakes
of crystal
skimming the surface
of a glassy lake.
I rest within
this unruffled stillness
and if I could purr
I would.
After some time
I slip out from
beneath the sheets
and stretch myself into
the burgeoning bloom
of the yawning day.
