Mar 17 2012

I have learned that things attack us in our sleep
and in our weakness
and that our weakness is much like sleep
in that we do not know we are being attacked.

But the half-awake state,
between the fantastic and the real
is where we rest and stay safe;
the understanding that there is more than this
and every choice can head toward it.

Every day a little more waking,
every day more darkness sheds,
and the unfamiliar blur
starts to turn into shapes.
Someday to wake entirely,
A fade in, a stepping over the gap,
rubbing the last bits of sleep from our eyes,
not awakened in terror, but shaking the covers off
a black blanket, a white jacket.
Always moving.
Yesterday I drifted toward sleep.
Today I move to wake.

Let me be always lunging for light, for
I have learned that things attack us
in our sleep.

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