Vacation’s Over, Rondeau-Month Isn’t


I lie awake and listen to the night.
She breathes the pain, the birthing of the light.
She cannot rest; her work is never done—
Holding space for moon, awaiting sun,
Believing everything will be all right.

Can that be true? Will she survive this fight?
Will we? And if we do, can she unite
This fractured family? Has she begun?
I lie awake.

I cannot sleep; I pray with all my might
To every god and goddess. So contrite,
I offer my own life and beg that none
May suffer for my sins. May peace be won.
I listen to the agony of night.
I lie awake.


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