A MORNING PRAYER

By Christina Mariam Das

She lay awake a little while,

blinking the sleep out of her eyes,

fidgeting a little, curling the ends of her quilt.

the first ray of sun took aim,

caught her right in the eye.

A little toe peaked outside the quilt,

snow, blizzard, storm, thunders or hail

she prayed, be it anything

for a little more sleep.

The sun stoop like a sturdy sentry

determined to wake the world grumpy.

The comfort of her quilt gave away

as the worries she swept under it

the previous night,

tugged the ends.

She thought she bid the day adieu

just a while ago

yet like an annoyingly good friend

it had come back.

A few stretches and creaks,

the unwilling legs scampered

in a drunken gait.

And off she went for the tomorrow

she thought about yesterday.

the unmade bed knew her stories,

sobbing into the pillows on bad days,

did a bed makeover on good ones,

binged on hard days

brought in a companion or for a fling.

To the unkept bed she’s still a child

Who comes to her for protection,

Hugs her covers as she weeps,

Her safe haven,

Her place to unfold

In the mystery of the night.

By Christina Mariam Das