You visited me again last night And I woke up again in fright. I didn't know what else to do. Should I have screamed? Should I have welcomed you? You bring me gifts of smoke. You're in my head. A rain of words, A wind of plots, A storm of thoughts. You're all the stories that I couldn't write, All the wounds that didn't cease to bite, All the shadows that never leave without a fight. You bring me gifts of light. You're in my hand. And when you cover the entire house You let me see the unseen part of me. The one who's quiet as a mouse. The one who feels at times denied. The one who'd write all night Until the ink of me runs white. Hours fly, from one to four, until you say: Alright! Did you set up your 6 am alarm? Good night, sleep tight!
In Romanian, my native language, “somn” (coming from Latin somnus) means “sleep”.
Some of us will never have to battle insomnia. For the rest of us, who suffer(ed) through a continuous, debilitating lack of sleep, I salute you. Regarding my sleep, I am in a much better place now. Yet I know once I tasted insomnia, she is never too far. May we find inspiration in our sleepless hours, may we write a letter to ourselves, may we all sleep as well as we dare!