Monday, September 19, 2016

always on the night shift

I turn out the lights, lie awake, thinking shadowy thoughts, breathing slow, and let my heavy heart wander. Then I rouse at the call to prayer, step into the shower, let the water run on cold —still wallowing in the dark. Maybe it's an attempt to manifest the symbolic, maybe I'm just tired of being tired, whatever my motives, I then prayed, enveloped in darkness, my eyes having adjusted to the monochromatic world of the lightless; hoping Light would visit me from within. 

Later, I will leave again, drive into the night, where the bright lights of the ED is blinding, where human sickness awaits, continues, endlessly.

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