the sleepless ones

by Lawrence Tirnauer

I am a terrible sleeper. Waking in the night and worrying is a special and ineffective superpower of mine. Sure, I would like to blame it on grief - once you get that call in the night, you know that you may in fact get it again. The mind can invent the most catestrophic ramblings when it meanders in the dark. Dad used to say, “you worry about worrying,” so I think I may have been born with this special gift. It was never named anxiety for me to to me as a kid. “Built like this”, was always the way I thought of it.

I no longer doom scroll or insta-surf when I wake, I put on a podcast. I try to divert the wandering to a sleep inducing pastime. Earbuds in, and I am off. Sometimes I wonder who else is awake and staring at the ceiling. My sister will say, “you should have called me, I was up too.” I was reminded of this poem in my waking hours. I also caught up on lots of Succession finale pods, a little Grief Is My Side Hustle (thanks Meghan) and My Favorite Murder (I know, not so good for carrying you off to slumber—but, Karen and Georgia). Here is this beauty…

Photo by Erik Witsoe on Unsplash

The Sleepless Ones
by Lawrence Tirnauer

What if all the people
who could not sleep
at two or three or four
in the morning
left their houses
and went to the parks
What if hundreds, thousands,
millions
went in their solitude
like a stream
and each told their story
what if there were
old women
fearful if they slept
they would die
and young women
unable to conceive
and husbands
having affairs
and children
fearful of failing
and fathers
worried about paying bills
and men
having business troubles
and women unlucky in love
and those that were in physical pain
and those who were guilty
what if they all left their houses
like a stream
and the moon
illuminated their way and
they came, each one
to tell their stories
would these be the more troubled
of humanity
or would these be
the more passionate of this world
or those who need to create to live
or would these be
the lonely
ones
and I ask you
if they all came to the parks
at night
and told their stories
would the sun on rising
be more radiant and
again I ask you
would they
embrace?

I like to imagine us all leaving our homes. All who are awake leaving our homes like a stream. Making our way to this meeting spot of millions, where we would share stories of pain and sorrow and worry. Sweet passions and purpose. The Memory Circle meeting at midnight or three or four am. Hello, my friend, what keeps you from sleep? Yes, we would embrace. Embrace one another and return to the surrender of solitude. A universe of compassion united.

I can dream.