mezzogiorno (12 PM)
he swore by 432 Hz
that sleep would come
by playing certain tones
at a certain volume
finding a frequency
that fits is only
half my battle
there’s a full moon
humming & the blue
hour always lingers
it’s never nighttime
when I need it to be
my searing skin
never calms enough
for a restful sleep
I am asked too often
for answers I cannot
find because the ones
questioning me
are those who should know
because they claim expertise
I own nothing, not even
the roof above me, definitely
not the sky or those dark clouds
skirting the lake
I refuse to name my pain
because it makes no difference
what I call it, only that I can
pinpoint it so exactly
and make it a culprit
he’s telling me to let
the stream of harmony,
the sound of serenity,
and the pure mood ambient
symphony lull me
healing music is one thing,
but when the body closes
its ears and its heart from hearing,
then I am a churning ocean
until morning
I try to explain this to him;
I whisper it to his back
while he peacefully dreams
I clutch my pillow tighter,
turn the radio off,
and try not to scream
Thistle Thoughts 
Wow! What a deep and beautiful poem Jennifer!
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Thank you
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My pleasure!
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I own nothing, not even
the roof above me, definitely
not the sky or those dark clouds
skirting the lake”
“I clutch my pillow tighter,
turn the radio off,
and try not to scream”
by all means scream into the pillow..
💕
Nice imagery Jennifer.
“
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Thank you ☺️🩷
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💓💓
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“it’s never nighttime”… a really beautiful complete line
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Thank you
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I feel this, at 4.57 in the morning that feels like forever.
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I have learned to just get up and do something rather than just count all the thoughts going on. I figure as long as I sleep eventually.
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