Fragments of Night

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In restless nights when shadows cling,

And sleepless hours refuse to bring

The peace I chase behind closed eyes,

I wander where my worry lies.


A tiny tablet, pale and small,

Whispers relief to quiet it all.

Yet even in its gentle sway,

The storm inside will not give way.


Thoughts collide, a ceaseless tide,

Regrets and fears I cannot hide.

Life presses hard, relentless, vast,

And every breath feels tied to the past.


Beneath the moon’s watchful, silver gaze,

My heart remembers calmer days.

Through menopause, pain, or night’s long toll,

I seek the slumber that heals my soul.


The shadow speaks in ancient tones,

Carved from memories, carved from bones.

It rises from the wounds I bear,

From every moment of despair.


Why do I falter, lose my way,  

As if the night will never sway?  

Yet in each fall a quiet space,  

A crack where strength begins to trace.


A place where strength begins to grow,

Where only hurt can teach us so.

And though the night still breathes in me,

I rise-slowly, painfully.


I am not broken. I am becoming.

Each sleepless night, each shadow humming,

Is part of the path I walk alone,

Toward a quiet peace I’ve always known.


And in that still, reflective space,

I cradle hope, I find my pace.

For healing is both dark and flame,

And every fracture speaks my name.


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