Awake Alone

A low, distant whine
crescendo and crash, can’t sleep–
night’s howling windstorm.

The blue rushing wind
far better than silence, the
deafening silence.

I know I won’t sleep,
with the air stirred up so, the
moon near her fullest.

No clean, quick-healing
cuts, this mess I’ve made, my life
mangled to a pulp.

I open the door,
invite both inside where I lie,
Moon caressing my feet,
Wind playing its lullaby.

She said, do not be
afraid to go deeper. You’re
not bloody enough–

Forehead to the earth,
arms embraced wide, I admit:
I can’t do this alone.

The rage passes, trees settle,
wind chimes sing
a last dissonant chord and
I hope this means sleep,
the escape, for me.

Submitted for Open Link Night #86 at


About bittersweetverse

Writer, poet, lover. View all posts by bittersweetverse

7 responses to “Awake Alone

  • Tracy Kuhn Greenlee

    your tone and punctuation is brilliant.. the read is enjoyably clear and very comprehensible.. one night in a storm can mean a multitude of misery and a finality of peace. thank you

  • ihatepoetry

    I love how the elements seem to be keeping you company so that you’re not completely alone. I liked this, although its melancholy left me a little sad (as it probably should).

  • Tony

    On the surface this is an enjoyable read about a night’s sleep lost to an external storm. Under the surface, it is so much darker and disturbing – and that makes it really powerful.

  • brian miller

    No clean, quick-healing
    cuts, this mess I’ve made, my life
    mangled to a pulp….dang….hard place of reality to find onself…
    you are not bloody enough…hard as well…
    in this i will hope for sleep…and a bit of escape…

  • shadedwood

    No matter the burden, you walk in grace and and dignity. You share your gorgeous art, whether of pleasure or pain. Thank you. Love

  • Grace

    I love the verses – fast paced like night’s howling snow storm, then settling in – the self acceptance, the admission of one’s frailty, the hopeful note for sleep to reclaim again ~ Excellent piece here ~

  • Stan Ski

    Anguish, torment, are screaming for recognition through the backdrop of a stormy, sleepless night…

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