Lullaby
The urge to sleep wraps her comfortable arms around my waist. She pulls me close into her lap, stroking my hair with her moonlight fingers. She sings softly like my mother.
She holds onto me through nightmares, and clings me fast to her well past when hours call me to wake. She is the very first signal of her demon brother, depression. He settles into the space between my eyes and cheeks and paints his presence smudgy blue. Light bruising that make my eyes seem more green, but more sad. Adds years to my face.
My heart.
I call to her, please come to me. Please come to me and take me for a few hours, where dreams paint me as I should be. Healthy, whole, unbroken. She acquiesces only when she feels it prudent to do so. Her arms hold me hostage to the other dreams as well. With his sweat on my face, the room rich and spinning with the copper penny smell of my blood. She is unfair in what she grants me.
As I am unfair. As I am unrested, even in hours of her company. I drink of this magic sleep and crave endless days more. Cool and stretched in my own bed. She gives and erases pain and I am willing to endure one for a taste of the other.
That cannot be good.
October 8th, 2008 at 3:30 am
I am SO IN AWE of your ability to write. I don’t even really know what to say, except that it was a beautiful, beautiful post.
October 8th, 2008 at 5:12 am
Maybe she can be a shield against her demon brother? Give her enough time and you’ll battle him with more strength.
Shorter days here, more cloudy – even the sky seems to be against me this time of year. Could it be that, in part?
XO
October 8th, 2008 at 5:31 am
Even in their destructive states, your muses sound far more interesting than mine. Mine have caused me to wake me and my partner twice saying ugly words in my sleep. I’m not burdened with the heavy dark dreams as you are, I’m mostly yelling at my mother. Freud would have loved me. Maybe I could yell at your dark muse in my sleep and scare him away for you?
October 8th, 2008 at 6:09 am
“she pulls me close to her lap” that’s exactly how I feel on the mornings when I go back to bed. pulled in. held there.
October 8th, 2008 at 6:50 am
It’s good that you see the link, but maybe, this time, you’re just tired, no? You’ve had a rough go of it, lately, and now perhaps you need to rest.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
October 8th, 2008 at 6:51 am
i tooted on her last night. sorry, bed
October 8th, 2008 at 6:53 am
This post is poetry and causes me to think, really think.
Beautiful, albeit painful, writing.
Thank you. You use words masterfully.
October 8th, 2008 at 7:06 am
This hurt. I know that sleep. When I saw
“she is the very first signal of her demon brother, depression” I understood your meaning in a way I wish was beyond me. I remember that sleep, and how eternally exhausting it is.
A recent post of mine was called Depression Is An Asshole. An attempt to characterize it in a way that I could sort of face off with, challenge, send packing.
Ha.
October 8th, 2008 at 7:06 am
Again, you touch my heart.
October 8th, 2008 at 7:22 am
Wow…
I don’t know what to say from there…
October 8th, 2008 at 8:00 am
I am wishing you peace. It’s so hard to know you are experiencing all of this… and knowing there’s nothing I can do to help. But I am thinking good thoughts for you and hoping the darkness is replaced with light.
~*
October 8th, 2008 at 8:25 am
I am familiar with that sleep, dude. Deep down, she is a siren-like bitch.
October 8th, 2008 at 8:30 am
You phrase things so lyrically.
I too retreat into sleep when in the throes of deep depression, the urge to avoid conscientiousness overwhelming. But my dreams are non-existant or forgotten. unfortunately for you, sleep isn’t an escape – it’s a separate purgatory.
so – the struggle is to find reasons and the ability to stay awake? seek a happy task to banish the sleep and demons therein? I wish you success in your task.
October 8th, 2008 at 10:40 am
i like what de said, that she’s your shield.
babe, you write so beautifully, achingly so. i just wish i could sit next to you and tell you that we’re both going to be alright. xo
October 8th, 2008 at 10:59 am
i am the opposite at the moment – sleep is fleeting and full of anxious dreams. i wish you could send me some of your sleep! i am hoping things will feel better next week for me – hope so for you too.
October 8th, 2008 at 11:18 am
Beautiful . Beautiful . Beautiful.
October 8th, 2008 at 1:23 pm
Gorgeous writing, my friend…and painful.
They have a bastard cousin, insomnia, who won’t leave me be. But I know that sleep, too, and would have a hard time not exchanging this for that. And no, that can’t be good, either.
Hugs.
October 8th, 2008 at 2:26 pm
(((You)))
October 8th, 2008 at 3:35 pm
We must be channeling each other at the moment. I know that connection very well. Your prose is beautiful and yet haunting.
BTW, that thing that is whispering to you that you mentioned at our place? I highly encourage you to answer it.
October 8th, 2008 at 4:49 pm
hugs
October 8th, 2008 at 5:43 pm
I am amazed that you have such powers of self-reflection–to know yourself so well, and to see these connections. I hope too that in the next few days you’ll rise above that dark brother, and out into the light.
October 8th, 2008 at 5:52 pm
(((you)))
October 8th, 2008 at 6:27 pm
Man, you can write.
And ouch, babe.
October 8th, 2008 at 8:23 pm
Beautifully crafted…masterful.
At some point you will have to write for real…
October 9th, 2008 at 8:37 am
wow – just wow…
October 9th, 2008 at 9:24 am
How I wish I could walk over to your house and just sit with you for a while.
October 9th, 2008 at 1:02 pm
This post? Perfection.
October 9th, 2008 at 1:19 pm
Mmmm….sleep. Get good rest, my love.
October 9th, 2008 at 6:21 pm
Love this, love this and the imagery is so perfect.
You are going through some shit right now. Rest is of paramount importance.
October 9th, 2008 at 8:58 pm
You know why painkillers exist of course – to dull the pain. If she helps you to get through it even as she fudges your senses, then I’d rather have her for a bit. You’ll work through it. I can tell you are already doing so. Just came from Jennifer’s blog and told her what a beautiful post she’d written and now I shall tell you the same thing.
Also, go read this. I love this guy. He kicks butt. You’ll see what I mean…
A big hug for you Flutter. I’m glad I came by today. I’d been missing you.
http://yogaforcynics.blogspot.com/2008/08/letter-to-deep-depression.html
October 9th, 2008 at 9:04 pm
we all need a break once in a while, even from our hearts.
October 9th, 2008 at 9:05 pm
So, I’m wondering. Can I copy and paste this into the blogs I’ve abandoned? JK. But, really, you say it way better than I can! Been feelin’ it too!
Hang in there, Beautiful Woman. Your gifts inspire us all. Your tenacity and strength of spirit and mind and soul grant to us such grace and truth!
Honored to “know” you!
Love. Love. Love.
Thanks for checking in with me the other day!
October 9th, 2008 at 9:18 pm
Wow. Christine. Wow.
October 9th, 2008 at 10:19 pm
Personifying something that is part of a person is so difficult. To personify an urge? My, my, girl. My, my.
Interesting that the sleep urge is female to you and depression is male. Just sayin’.
October 10th, 2008 at 7:39 am
Absolutely beautiful, my friend. Just gorgeous.
October 11th, 2008 at 9:40 pm
It may not be, but the writing is.
October 13th, 2008 at 1:48 pm
Ah yes, I know this one intimately. The horrid state when I want to be sleeping rather than EVER be awake.
October 13th, 2008 at 9:19 pm
I am, as always, slayed by your words. I hope this finds you a night of rest.
October 14th, 2008 at 6:35 pm
A dangerous place, I think. Hope it resolved. Reading on…
October 21st, 2008 at 5:40 am
Your writing is so beautiful, so evocative. Of such hell. I have a sleep demon too and this paints it so perfectly.