Sohbet – Insomniatic

Threads of thought tangled tight in my chest.
Pain in taunt chords, keeps me from sleep.
I search for the pill that will start their loosening.
A remedy of peace, for my life, in pieces.

I read a story about a man with a zit.
He asked the doctor: “What do I do?”
“Let it express itself.”
Leave the festering be.
Don’t poke and prod to hurry the release.
Let it express itself.
All things come in their own time.
Even the foul will eventually work loose.

I turn to a book of Rumi.
My late-night soul-lover.
We grapple and tangle naked with God.

Whenever you hurt
You say Lord God!
The answer lives in that
Which bends you low
And makes you cry out.

There in the flickering dark
My beloved sends words.
Across the centuries.
To the broken down, the faltering.
The answer in the crying out.

The answer in an old dream:

Tall building collapsing
Me running up the side.
Dream gravity doesn’t hold.
I run up as tower falls.
The building pivots.
Fulcrum unseen.
The falling flips to rising.
The ruins turned on end.
Stand anew.

When all collapses around me,
I try and remember that dream.
My late-night soul-lover’s proverb:
Joy lives concealed in grief.

In the festering sadness.
Let it express itself.

12 thoughts on “Sohbet – Insomniatic

  1. This is the post-critique version of the last sohbet sharing the editing process (or at least results) of a writers’ collective.

    Feel free to comment on the changes – whether the edits improved the piece or if anything was lost.

    And also, feel free to add your poetic replies, lets stir up some sohbet action on here again!


  2. [Find me, rumi]
    ten thousand winds have blown
    since we last met
    ten thousand footprints upon me
    since we last share a moon’s reflection
    ten thousand tries
    since I attempted
    to place my hand in yours


  3. It was once said-
    keep the walls of your heart
    coloured with the skin of your love
    you may claim your right as a castle

    layers of tattoos on skin
    it’s noise visualized into graffiti
    and I feel like an old train-cart
    going southbound towards somewhere warm


    1. Keep the walls of your heart
      They are high and seamless

      Not even a fissure
      For a Hero to whisper
      Tales of adventures
      You will not risk

      Keep the walls of your heart

      In your solitary fortress
      It’s all you will lean on


      1. Heroes are assholes
        They just got the lucky draw
        the extra bullet in their gun
        the fortunate DNA

        Because their reach extends farther than our jab
        they get to state what really happened
        until someone raises an eyebrow
        then we get a chance to exist-
        as contrasting footnotes


  4. there is no beginning
    visible becomes ceiling
    how long i have been
    clenched waiting here
    i fear each red grain
    that steals tomorrow
    digit by digit inevitable
    lie still in the dark


  5. where do the peaceful go? the tranquil?
    when the world stands still and the pain of being eases
    slips away
    I suffer your wakefulness
    the anxiety, the exhaustion of breathing
    when breath alone sustains you.
    No nourishment
    no repreive from the endless pit of
    slumberless acheings
    when the pressure boils over
    expels the same, hard reality
    before the sun rises
    sharp and stale and without remorse
    a viscous reminder of days past
    and nights to come


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