…it is then that I lie
in the lean hours awake…
- r. s. thomas
once I woke up in the middle of the night with a stinging question burning beneath my eyelids. even though the blankets were thick enough for the season, I trembled. why, I asked the darkness. the silence’s truth pierced my ears. fatigued, I was able to see coherence in the incoherent, purpose in the chaos. I couldn’t help but give in. the certainty that this why should be muffled, shut down by (and turned into) the dark silence itself, appeased me – and I fell soundly asleep again.
