I lie Still , desperate to remain good
my insides squirm.
The woman pads around the room punitively
Attending to any slight misdemeanour , the
twitches are recorded in her list .
Who will Be the Wake up Fairy?
Slowly , I sense the others drifting off to sleepy realms
their breathes ; soft like the shore –
How do they sleep in this tangle of bodies?
Who will be the Wake up Fairy?
She knows that beneath the stubborn frame
I lie awake . Disobedient child.
How I long to just submit , to drift away and escape the longing
to be the one who wakes.
The chosen child who gets to be the prized , dainty , wake up queen.
Punished by the routine .
How to they sleep ? I am 3 , perhaps 4 , I want to roar around and climb
I come to play , not lie here as part of her token regime
I shift my limbs
I just want to be me.
Perhaps there was a time when I floated among the others ,
crowned the Fairy Of Sleep.
But this is the only memory I have –
My first in fact.
Book ending the shadows of my existence .
As I Lay today , resting in the darkness of my yoga end,
I landed back in that room of limbs –
I took the hand of my childhood self and we chatted through
the expanse of time.
She is no longer alone . I love her . Now she is just me
And together , we can just BE.