some of us wish we were not deep thinkers (not that i am the spokesperson for deep-thinkers, but i think some can relate) especially when we are home sick, alone, with too much time on our hands and not enough energy to move to far to the right or to the left. so we are forced to sit, or maybe lie down, and think. and sleep. and think some more. and we dream about things we shouldn't think about. for hours on end. making up for lost time, i guess. sometimes, like this week, i have been known to stubbornly stay at work while all of my co-workers fester in anger over my unintentional germ-spreading. after eight hours they are convinced that they hate me and that the swine flu is all my fault. what they don't know, is that i resist coming home because i know that being home alone will result in a heavy duty wrestling match with myself. in my tiny room in my quiet house, i have no where to hide. this is not a party i like to be invited to. i lie in bed, shades drawn, window opened a crack to combat the musty smell that never seems to go away, and no matter what i listen to on my iPod or my record player, my subsequent dreams will be filled with thoughts that i refuse to face during my busy days. guaranteed. so maybe i get sick when i need to wrestle. i wrestled all day long today. the kind that doesn't end with a winner, just a knot. play the violin for me, i know... i don't really have the swine flu, so i really have nothing to complain about.
well, after a full day of this sleep wrestle phenomenon thing... i needed a break. i couldn't decide what to do, so i just grabbed the closest book i could find. it was an anthology that i bought in san francisco at the
City Lights Bookstore. "poetry in motion from coast to coast." this publication is a collection of poetry specifically chosen to be
displayed in buses and subways across the nation. the poems are quick and thought provoking and when i don't have the energy to read an entire story or article, i pick this up for inspiration. On page 140, I found an excerpt from the Margaret Atwood poem "Variation on the Word Sleep". I laughed at the title while the poet's words resonated all over. I have chosen to share the whole poem with you.
Variation On The Word Sleep
Margaret Atwood
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
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