What Creeps By My Bedside

Self-pity crept in by the bedside

Laid a languorous hand on my back

And pressed me into smothering covers

I fought back not a bit and sunk

Into the soft, motionless depths

Of a savoured sorrow

That tasted dry and overwrought

Bringing me back to restless immobility

What tossing and turning did this ship—

Myself—endure upon the sea of sleeplessness

I fought with rage and pride against a foe

That dared to offer out a hand to save me

“Grab hold and live!”

He cried from the deck

And still I screamed futile rage and sorrow

Gurgling against the waves

“Give me this!”

I shouted

“Give me one wrong to remember;

One grudge to nurture.”

But he stole the dead weight from my hands

And carried me to shore

Back to my bedside

Where self-pity lay defeated

Then instead of weeping

I gave in to sleeping.