Sunday, January 23, 2011


It is night.

With a thunder clap sound
Stadium lights turned on
The mind is now a green field that is so bright
My eyes have to open and let some darkness in,
and then I force them shut again.

In a matter of moments some new developments
Have been carried into the bright stadium
There is loud theme park music
And wearing my blue nightdress,
I am wandering through an endless fun fair.

My calves and shoulders ache with fatigue,
But I have a simple task in this field,
To find a rock and the circuit breaker
And bring the noisy chaos to a quiet sleep.

I am distracted by The Ferris Wheel of Faces
Of beautiful people that I mingled with through the week,
Whose faces are now ugly and their lips sticky with cotton candy,
They loudly regurgitate the once wonderful words
Of conversation we shared, and speak each one above the other.

Rapidly backing away from the wheel,
I bump into a silly clown with a painted smile
He is balancing on a unicycle and juggling dishes and diapers,
And out of his painted smile, in a robotic monotone
He repeatedly announces “Seventeen new messages”.

Once again I have to let my eyelids open,
And escape the terrible carnival music and lights.
My fatigue ache seems to have crept to the rest of my body.
I begin to flip through my internal book of remedies
That has been written over the years.

I find the page with the Centering Prayer,
But my eyelids accidentally fall shut again,
This time I am being driven away from the theme park
In a the familiar cab I used on Thursday.

The Serbian cub driver turns his head to greet me,
His calming expression is both friendly and serious
I surrender to the drive through cold Queen Street
Though my body is still aching and fatigued

I shift my eyes from the cab window and
Begin to follow the lovely movements
Of a swinging Rosary on the review mirror
That hangs there still from Thursday

I regain hope of applying my Centering Prayer remedy
And I do so to the rhythm of the Rosary Cross,
“Jesus Christ Son of God” hold breath,
“Have mercy on me a sinner” release breath.

Soon I my whole body is part of the sway
And I feel myself being tossed back and forth
From the arms of St. Basil the Great
And received by St. John the Chrysostom

Seamlessly I am transported to my room
Where I lay fast asleep in lightening darkness

Oh no! Not another thunder clap?
This time it is the neighbour
With a his plough against a snowbank
Then the emphatic cry of an abruptly woken toddler,

It is morning.

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