no rest

there is no rest, staring
into the dark of a bedroom,
moving about in bed,
mind ticking like a clock
unable to stop

there is no respite from
a life of work that
will not die and stay dead
but invades the heart
with its muck

how cold the small
dark hours of the morning
how quiet
as if all nature holds its breath

and who knows the brutal
agony of others
somewhere on the cliffs
of the world
in the teeth of a storm

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