Pain woke us ~ why we wake and why we return to sleep

 

Pain woke us

  

Pain woke you,

Prodded you from sleep.

From the first aches of discomfort

To the full blown agony of awareness

It stopped your slumber dead.

You tried to mask it

Tried to distract yourself

With whatever came to hand.

Anything to sleep again

Dreaming the soft safe dreams

That fill the sleeping world

With pastels colours and smooth shapes

And are void of any meaning.

So, the pain is gone,

You tell me without words

Life feels good, you say.

Sweet dreams, I say, resigned.

I’ll see you in the morning;

I’ll take the night-shift

And watch over your sleep.

Someone has to guard the sleepers,

It might as well be me.

 

Pain woke me,

Prodded me from sleep.

From the first aches of discomfort

To the full blown agony of awareness

It stopped my slumber dead.

I tried to mask it

Tried to distract myself

With whatever came to hand.

Anything to sleep again

Dreaming the soft safe dreams

That fill the sleeping world

With pastels colours and smooth shapes

And are void of any meaning.

So, the pain is gone,

I tell you without words

Life feels good, I say.

Sweet dreams, you say, resigned.

I’ll see you in the morning;

You take the night-shift

And watch over my sleep.

Someone has to guard the sleepers,

It might as well be you.

 

 

Pain woke them,

Prodded them from sleep.

From the first aches of discomfort

To the full blown agony of awareness

It stopped their slumber dead.

They tried to mask it

Tried to distract themselves

With whatever came to hand.

Anything to sleep again

Dreaming the soft safe dreams

That fill the sleeping world

With pastels colours and smooth shapes

And are void of any meaning.

So, the pain is gone,

They tell me without words

Life feels good, they say.

Sweet dreams, I say, resigned.

I’ll see you in the morning;

I’ll take the night-shift

And watch over your sleep.

Someone has to guard the sleepers,

It might as well be me.

 

 

{ I posted this first at http://thewildsheepsociety.wordpress.com . As a sufferer of chronic pain, the power of pain to awaken us from more than simple slumber is bitterly familiar; perhaps all forms of enlightenment begin with this sudden waking to other realities. It’s amazing how a simple change of voice changes everything; I started the poem with the first person and then played around. }

 

Being a carrot

 

 

There’s days when I feel little more than a human vegetable and on one such day, Retired Eagle posted a few thoughts that tickled me. If you go to: http://retiredeagle.wordpress.com/ and scroll down till you find the article called On being a Happy carrot.

It tickled me because immediately I started thinking can you be an UNhappy carrot. I play with words a lot (small things for small minds) and the idea of either was beautifully absurd and I began to ponder the meaning for me.

I played with the idea of the interim state of awakening and becoming alive and aware and that stage being the unhappy, the uneasy carrot.

To be honest, I think maybe I have a sadistic streak somewhere, because I have no interest in Happy Carrots at all. It’s the unhappy ones that draw me. I have a friend I work with sometimes. The first year I knew him he was in the unhappy carrot camp and I felt strongly drawn to him, almost as a mentor. He was showing signs of seeking deeper and more real experiences both in life and in his spiritual journey. We were quite close, I guess. Then, the second year of our relationship, he began to go back to sleep and a year ago, more or less, he did a number of things that made me take notice. Things I couldn’t imagine him doing a year before, at least not without a great deal of angst afterwards. I began to withdraw, since any conversation we had began very quickly to bore me.

This year, I’ve hardly had an contact with him. He’s now nailed his life down and that’s it, now as far as he’s concerned. He’s got his career sorted, he’s bought a house, he’s got engaged to someone who he was dumped by a few years back, and he’s got some position at his church.

It’s rather sad. He had potential. And now he’s asleep again.

Here’s the rub for me, though. He’s also very, very boring.

Oh well.