The Sleep

Everything slept
The sun slept
Behind the mist of city smog dancing between the skyscrapers
The buildings slept, lights down low, people at home,
Sleeping
The church slept, no light shone through its windows
Its candles all snuffed, wax dried
And on the stone steps of the church a man slept
With holes in his boots and a cap on his head
And on his back, his jacket slept like a blanket
Keeping him warm

93 north slept, so did route 3,
Pavement cool and unmarred
By the tires of the cars,
That slept in their driveways, their garages and parking lots
No key in their engines with their tires turned off.
Travelers and tourists slept in moth eaten beds
Between itchy sheets labeled Motel 6.
For once the Bickfords next door slept,
No teenagers or coffee drinkers munching down food.

The trees on my street slept,
Like my house and my yard.
The snores from the other rooms told me,
All my family slept.
But, that night I could not sleep.

I softly moved down the stairs that squeaked and awakened with each step
Past my dog, who always sleeps.
Through the dining room where the chinaware slept,
Only to awaken on Christmas day
There, sleeping on the family room pull out couch
I saw her
My great aunt lay in an ocean of pastel pink sheets
With a tiny blue flower pattern scattered across them
Her gray hair, usually confined to a cap or scarf,
Flowed freely around her wrinkled face and her fragile neck.
Her small body swam in her oversized nightgown
Covered in lace and small white embroidered designs
She stitched her self.
Her mouth frowning so often now was at rest
Her watery eyes empty for once
All her tears spilt out earlier that night
Onto the handkerchief,
Its old monogram faded and worn
His initials, JAL just a shadow of what they once were
And his memory just a shadow in our minds
My great uncle now slept for ever.
My aunt’s shoulders shook as she sobbed again in her sleep
And I stepped back again into the shadows of my house
Leaving her alone in her sorrow