I cannot sleep.
It’s late and dark, but not quiet.
At least, the stirring in my mind is not quiet.
my questions are not quiet.
Endless problems are not quiet – but the solutions refuse to speak.
There are voices repeating arguments that all make sense – echoing like a dissonant chorus.
It’s not even beautiful like jazz music.
I find no lullaby in the unending forte of calls for freedom.
I cannot sleep.
The voices are too loud. And, I can’t always tell them apart.
I start to listen more closely, and it seems,
Down this way leads to that way, but there is an interchange and
I might have missed it – for the voices – where do they lead?
Where do they lead?
It’s not to sleep. I’ll tell you that. There is no rest within this verse.
Always melody . . . broken harmony . . . and see?
It all repeats.
It all repeats.
It all . . . I cannot sleep.
My soul repeats.
I want to sleep.
My soul release.
My soul receive.
Peace.
byjenwaldron.com 
Beautiful, my friend. It is often in the depth of difficulty our words reveal a beauty not found in the bliss.
Thanks for sharing. Suzzanne
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I love this poem and the reveal that your life isn’t all easy.
When people are strong-such as yourself-it is easy for others to think it is somehow effortless because you possess an amount of grit others do not.
We string ones understand this is not true.
Beautiful, my friend.
Sending you peace. Suzzanne
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