Barb Anderson

In the dead of night

Often I think of my mortality

And then I sleep,

With soft thoughts of peace

and images of eternity

And when I wake, my face

no longer removed, I fasten

my mask and begin again.

Thinking of what can be

achieved through sightless eyes.

Daily I tread on tomorrow

with thoughts of freedom

Images of laughter tug

harshly in my mind

and I remember yesterday.

There is in all of us

A place no one is allowed to see

Our own thoughts, fears, and memories

safely tucked away.

Somehow you found that place,

the one I didn't know how to share,

and you opened new worlds to me.

Freedom, love, life

As you walked through with me

I have lived the kind of life I thought

we would be proud of,

Our children, tall and proud, strong

When you sleep, I listen

I hear the soft sound of your breathing

And I know how blessed I am

to be one with you.

Softly I walk down the hall,

door after door opens slowly

Snores, groans, coughs, and breathing

Greet me.

After the check, I go back to the front

writing down who is where and how they

got here, broken lives, harsh realities,

Stories that make you weep.

Somebody comes up the stairs around 2:00 a.m.

They can't sleep, to many thoughts, to many memories

The guy in the next bed sleeping to soundly, loud and hoarse.

He wants to talk.

Talk about his hopes, how he is going to get out of this place

What he will do in the morning. How he might call his mom.

He stops and pauses. The last time he called his mom, she hung up.

He walks outside for a cigarette. He looks cold.

Another one stumbles out of the dark hallway.

She is pregnant, her belly large, her waddle like mine

When I was pregnant. She smiles, I want my own place, Miss Barbara

I really want my own place.

4:00 a.m. comes, six or seven have straggled out now.

They talk, they laugh, we all laugh. Somebody wants coffee.

I look at the clock. The shift is over at 7:00. I'm 55.

I haven't been up this late for years.