Why I Lay Awake at Night
Some people lay in their beds unable to sleep,
unable to dream, or not wanting to.
They each have their own reasons not to enter the nights embrace,
Whether it is the future or the past.
I find myself with a foot in both camps, fearing the past and future,
As my mind decides which nightmare is to come on a nightly basis.
Should I remember the looks on my family’s faces, the rage inside,
When I looked into my cousin’s coffin, the victim of a cold-blooded ******.
The face of his murderer and the image of the acceptance letter to West Point,
The kind Lieutenant Colonel or the Deacon who presided over Requiem.
These all haunt me at night,
The images of a time past and great loss.
Should I be tortured with other images instead,
Those of my uncle or brother or a different cousin, all in the Air Force.
I cannot help but think of what may happen,
Of the horrors of war and loss.
I live in fear of the letter bearing the seal of the Air Force,
of the phone call from my mother or the two officers at the door.
Finally, there is my grandfather, who served in the U-boats,
One who never showed fear, at least to me, reduced to a frail old man in his last months.
A once proud, strong man, a father of 3 daughters,
A fighter, a survivor of untold horrors from the forties.
I build him the box in which he now resides,
And I see him before me when sleep does not come.
There are few things that can haunt someone like death,
Or death yet to come.
There is no reprieve from this constant torture,
The fear, the agony, the sadness, except death itself.
These gruesome specters, of Christmas Past and Christmas Future,
They, are Why I Lay Awake at Night.