And then there was last night

when I couldn’t sleep  I

counted forwards counted backwards

repeated the word meditate one hundred times

heard a mouse in the kitchen

did not go to see her heard car horns on the street

we live on a corner that is sometimes loud

heard wind and then the baby below us

woke up and he shouted the sun was up

cold very very cold and whether or not t i slept

it’s still morning.

 

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

3 Comments

  1. Really? You said meditate one hundred times? Whoa.
    There is something very beautiful about inward stillness and wordless peace as one learns to breath in slowly and then normally relaxing in the presence of Self. All these words would tumble away after awhile and even though not sleeping, then again you might, the deep rest you would receive would be addictive, rest and clarity to look forward to. I can see you wrestling with the meditation practice at first, (Your Journal would be very funny. A real Durga and Kali Yuga kind of match.) But then. Ah then. Interesting— after some meditations one can’t speak for awhile. Words come out very s-l-o-w-l-y. Meditate with others meditating. It strengthens your practice. It sure beats mania and insomnia.
    With Great Respect and Love,

  2. Sitting at my computer, next to my unmade bed, I feel somewhat guilty for having had a good night’s sleep while you were aware of all your surroundings all night. I won’t offer suggestions because you have heard them all, but I will pray for you. Thank you for your beautiful poem.

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