The Poems

The Time between Morn and Night

By Andrea D. Garzon

Aren't you tired right now?

No, not the kind that stems from physical work.

But the one that's from thinking and feeling.

Thinking of what tomorrow could bring

Or even just what to do in the evening.

Feeling of what the others might be feeling

Or what your friends could be hiding.

This state is like a limbo of uncertainties.

I sat here in front of my computer trying to write.

I couldn't find the exact words but it's cathartic

To write, to express, but not trying to be poetic

Isn't it that when we are having intense emotions

Overwhelmed by a sudden burst of abstraction

We resort ourselves to art though unsure if we can

Not as artists but just as humans.

The conviction is there

You can get through this

But just in what way?

Quite difficult to even think about

Or to even think about how others

Are thinking about it?

You know sleeping won't breed an answer

But it is tempting; a luxury to not care.

And what knowing the words to express

Of what you're feeling inside can do?

You're hopeless, helpless

At least not yet senseless

Then, should you feel blessed?

Is it really okay to lay down one's arms

And rest safety on someone else's palms?

I tried to think about the pain

But the pain isn't there

I tried to think again

But then again, it's a problem I can't see.

Now, I think of my guards

Of my armors, of my guns

And I realized that I actually had none.

And so, I rest myself on the hope

That tomorrow is not yet gone.

A hope that is like a swallow

Sitting on power lines

Looking like crows waiting for a pyrite

To catch its sight and take on its flight.