Quiet
each night that i lie in bed
there is a split-hair moment when
racing thoughts finally leave my head
a moment to catch my breath
and feel my body relax
without the anxious fear of death
no regrets to gnaw at my skin
no fluttering heart in my chest
no worries of my committed sins
where usually there would be pain
in these aching, tired bones
i feel not a single hurting strain
but as i answer softly to sleep’s call
the nightmares sit at the edge
waiting for my guards to fall
i never did trust the quiet
Sunshine Poetry by Crys Sherman 