POETRY ON MEDIUM

The Night Shroud

A Prose Poem

Sunset from an over-wing window seat on the way to somewhere far away. Photo by Author

The nights stretch into infinity. Why do I care what he thinks of me? Old memories creep into restless sleep. I toss and turn as regrets burn a hole in my soul, in the heart that I left, but thought I had kept. I haven’t wept and haven’t slept. I didn’t see, couldn’t see, the truth that was right in front of me. How long? How long will I feel this way? Evening mist descends to close the day, to shroud my world. Beneath it, I’m curled like a bear in its cave. Or is it a grave?

Author’s note: A year or so ago, a good friend posted an excellent prose poem that not only resonated deeply with me, it also had a fascinating internal rhyme scheme. He had inspired me in so many other ways that I thought it would be fun to give this form a try.

Coincidentally, I was feeling sorry for myself that day because of an abusive partner that I stayed with for too many years, and this poem wrote itself, allowing those thoughts to dissipate into the light of day.

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