Why Won't You Nap: A Poem About Daily Disturbances

Lean into pain;
‘Tis muscle ripping,
Allowing for more,
Through recurring strain.

’Tis no injury,
Warning or punishment,
But refashioned inclinations
Of disordered hearts:
Born wanting instantaneously,
Bred demanding sacrosanct rights.

Deceived diva
Dissonant from holy choirs.
Unbalanced cog
Obstructing the machinery.
Skiff colliding
With the King’s navy
Bound to feed the hungry. 

Nothing is wasted or lost.
No yearning unrequited,
But transfigured and diffused
Unto the way eternal
Through today’s wants frustrated
And tomorrow’s hopes replaced
And yesterday’s offenses burned
Like incense’s sweet fragrance.

There on the altar,
I scatter the wood shavings
Chiseled clean-off my own form.
There they ignite
With the lamb’s immolation
He gave to set hearts aright
To lift the banishment
And encompass all natures,
All voices at rehearsal,
All gears grinding down,
All ships learning to helm,
Bound to feed more hungry.

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