Sara Blake
Night Hymn
Poem

Night is best for thinking
about beginnings,
not morning,
like they’ll try and tell you.

I’m braver with my
notions of what could be
with sleep so close to rescue me
when old Fear get his claws
around too tight.

I’ll need a runway afforded
only in dreams
long enough to let the guts of
the thing shake out
so I can see what it’s all for.

By the time the sun hits,
I’m ready.
The amnesia of sleep
is a convenient armor
that greets me
fresh each day.

The hard part
is done, I say.
Morning is just the
other side of the door.