Skip to main content

Lullaby, lullaby

Sleep is the sleep of innocents, of angels
Sleep is beneath an arbor of silken bedclothes
Sleep is a mound of fragrant rose petals
Sleep is the sleep of Beauty in her bower

The sun is glowing molten white through frosted glass
By the time I am done with my shower the room is almost dark

Then it is time to climb into a mound of silken bedclothes cloaked in deep curtains
And yearn for restorative sleep

Sleep is the sleep of the restless
The burning
Endless dark moments in a cold void
Peering out from bedclothes into the dark
Fearfully
Going downstairs
Eating
Writing in my journal
Terribly awake now
I am out of the house before the sun rises
And my eyes are burning and my face looks old
Because the sleep of innocents and angels has become a fairy tale

Sleep is the sleep of Beauty in her bower, Rapunzel in her tower
Her long, long hair bound in a tight golden diadem
Sleep is long slim hands clinging to silken white pillows
Breathing softly in tandem to the gentle wind swaying the curtains
Inhaling the scent from the roses climbing the stone wall
Sleep is the sleep of the princess
The sleep of Beauty

Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

The secret to a happy home

I finished Marion Harland's guide tonight and I wonder ceaselessly at two things. 1. She is so down on America! Even more than I am. She complains of things in which I am so well-steeped I could not see them for what they were. In particular, American style and cookery. It is true that our food, which we count as so much more generous in portion than the overseas counterpart, is as coarse and indecorous as it is plentiful, but as an American woman I cast up my hands and declare I would rather spend my time on something else. She makes an interesting point about American women's fashions. In France women wear what looks good on them, and in America women wears what comes off the manufacturing line in the latest style. It is very conformist, and I have to admit I feel it in myself, for I would be embarrassed to wear something that is "out" even if it flattered me better. 2. Harland's other point I feel clearly from last night's experiences. I looked in my journ...
more &

Helen Keller

Reading this Women of Influence book is causing me to remember another of my great childhood loves -- "The Miracle Worker," the story of Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller. It was Anne Sullivan I really loved, and still love -- it always made me heartsick to think of her sacrifice, devoting every waking minute to another human being, with almost no life left to herself, until she died in old age, and Helen Keller required another translator. But God -- she must have known it -- that's the best way to live -- it is to have every moment of your life swallowed in supreme goodness and satisfaction. No wonder I loved her, and no longer do I feel sorry for her -- I envy her. I thought of her today perhaps because when I was around eight or nine I grew aware that she and I shared the same initials "AS." Today is the first day that I am Amanda Monteleone at work, and I have written my initials "AM" dozens of times already. It's strange, but the satisfaction of...
more &

Sprouts

Sprouts Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . I am getting sprouts. Hopefully they are carnations. It is such a beautiful spring day. It's good I'm taking the chance to come outside: I have craved a moment to reflect on something beautiful.
more &