Where is the memory of slipping off to sleep
The distant hum of life, fading, fading, fading
The veil of peace that would have covered the ebb
Have they, the friends of night, stayed from me
Sending in their place the hell that hath no fury
And I with too few years in my eyes to have scorned
From where came the nightmare that lives in this one
What crime was accomplished while sleeping in the womb
Hell is a man trying to gain sense of a child’s memories
Flashes of light from the arms that one wanted to hold
Poisonous spears flung from the mouth of a matriarch
All of them recorded but none ever truly understood
Rock this one slowly to sleep and sing a quiet bye
Hold him steadfast and long against your breast
Help him to turn the earth through the darkness
Listen with him for the thing that would go bump
Let him lay open the tender heart at your coming
And for this you will possess as much as remains
Sleep little ones, I swear a day will come
When we will awake and walk upright in the sun
The holes in our souls will close without scars
We will look into the eyes that would not nurture
That wildly turned away so as not to see the flames
Bursting from our hearts, flowing from our eyes
© 1996 Tim D. Coulter Sr.