DailyRi 019: Sleepless Nights Ft. 3AM Poems
I HAVE 99 PROBLEMS BUT SLEEPING IS DEFINITELY NOT ONE.
i can usually sleep anytime, any place, under pretty much any circumstances (I'm blessed, i know). but once every blue moon, i come across a sleepless night. a night where i can't get myself to fall asleep regardless how many things i try: reading, watching a show, listening to a really long podcast. over time, i realized that these kinds of nights have only one thing in common:
there is something weighing heavily on my mind &/or heart that i need to write about before i can sleep peacefully.
i had one of these nights two days ago. here’s how it went. i got into my bed around 11pm, from 11p-2am, i tossed, turned, listened to stuff, read stuff, watched stuff, but still couldn’t sleep. i knew i needed to write because this line kept playing over & over in my head like a lyric: “her whole life has been stained by you.” I knew it was about my dad & the (mainly positive) ways that my life will never be the same after him. i had no clue what else the words wanted from me though. this is how most of my poetry is written though; that’s how i know my art is truly an expression of my most deeply subconscious feelings waiting to teach me something about myself.
anyhoo, after fighting the urge to elaborate on that sentence, i begrudgingly grabbed my phone from under my pillow, opened up my notes section, & set the words free. 30 minutes later, i was left with a beautiful poem that made me realize that, regardless how busy & happy i’ve been lately, i miss my dad every minute of every day.
HERE IT IS:
1.18.19 | 2.26am
her whole life has been stained by you.
& not the kind of unwanted stain
destroying her most treasured dress.
not that kind. not that kind at all.
the kind of stain
that sticks around
well after she's wiped her lipstick off.
like drops of wine spilled on a carpet,
you are the kind of stain that she can count on
to remind her of that evening
well after the dance is over.
you are the kind of stain that stays
to assure her of how beautiful & alive
she would have felt on her special night
in that white dress, dancing with you
to her favorite tune
under those chandeliers
without a worry in the world
because she still had you.
your baby will spend the rest of her life
stained by your death.
how will she ever put that behind her?
but here she is, living. beautifully.
yet all too grateful for the reminder.
i really like this poem - it just sounds different. which makes sense because lately i’ve been feeling differently. about baba, about my life, about what my future has in store for me. i like how i’m feeling, & my writing has been reflecting this newfound perspective. as a token of gratitude for my ability to express myself so freely, i am going to lean into these urges to express the thoughts buried deepest in my subconscious.