3:15 a.m.

It’s 3:15 a.m., early on a Friday morn, Haven’t been to bed yet, body tired and worn I still cannot sleep, nerves are ragged, So scared of war, my spirits sagged Listening to my heart beat, Pitter-patter, skip and repeat Trembling away from inside out, Just want to run somewhere and shout Now it’s 3:20 a.m., Don’t know who I am Or where I’ve been, Life yet to be seen What’s keeping me from trying, Maybe realistic fears of dying? I don't want to awaken one day And find no reason left to pray This immortal terror can't go on much longer, Humanity's enemies can only make us stronger Allies empowered by love and courage offer support, Plus a bit of help from above as a holy fort It’s twenty-five after three, Still alive, well part of me Wish I could turn back the clock, So I'd never feel the shell shock From a future not meant to be It’s at the danger zone, I’m afraid to be alone I hesitate to take a hike, Go to the store, ride my bike Too spooked to be without my spouse, Too panicky to even leave the house If upon it a nuclear bomb should drop, Together we’ll die, our bodies on top Lying in our bloody tomb, side-by-side, Cozy and oblivious to those who never cried Not a red-eyed tear, not a terrified scream, Just eternally tranquil deadened dreams Now it’s 3:30, past due for bed, I must try to rest my weary head If only for a short maddening hour, Time to recharge my battery power Then I'll wake up, only to repeat Same stupid mistakes made in defeat, Giving in to evil's greedy temptations As children starve in contemptuous nations Well, after 3:45 and I’ve yet to fall asleep, My nightmares drove away the flock of sheep All that’s left are memories of the deceased, And a world once filled with visions of peace (c) 10.01, 3.04 SmSI am a chronic insomniac, this war only added to my worries. On the bright side, the longer I can't sleep, the more poems I write. (some consolation) Written February 11th, 2002 © on Feb 10 2002 03:13 PM PST, Sheryl Marcia Schwartz   12 • 11 • 1