p1

In the hour before dawn, I rise up

to give myself a little bit

before it all starts again.

“Rise up” is not really what I do;

I lie there, awake, on my pallet,

and very still, barely breathing.

I listen, make sure no one else is stirring,

make sure nobody hears me.

I take a few moments to listen to

my blood beating in my ear,

hear my own breath

easing out my lips.

I let myself sink, ease down

again, for just a few minutes

in the cool gray

before it all starts

all over again and

goes and goes

until the middle of the night

and I collapse on rough cloth,

too tired to ease into sleep,

too frayed to dream

good dreams, knots in my back

like cobblestones.

I want to work for myself

not for somebody else.

I want to earn my own keep.

Notes:

This poem is from “The Witness Stones Project” portfolio that appeared in the November 2021 issue. The authors write about the series and the collaborative process here.

Source: Poetry (November 2021)