Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree (Poems)


insomnia wakes me
barbed words
prick my mind
even here
as if out of the wind
they come from nowhere

i cannot seem to find
the means to deflect them
only to endure

yet there is a shield
that quenches the fiery darts

though i do not
am hurt
and sometimes
wonder why i am attacked
i am not the first
nor am i alone
and this really isn’t
about me

the hurting one hurts
wishing for me
to respond in kind
to validate the misery

here on the veranda
listening to the waves
on a sleepless night
i realize that
the strikes don’t
need to change me

they just mean
i must be doing
something right

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