Recently, I was looking at old contributor copies of magazines and came across a little poem I still quite like. That is a nice feeling, and I know I use this phrase a lot, but it really is like coming across an old friend by surprise. And why is it that those early morning inspirations always happen on the days you did not have to get out of bed early?
You will learn to write legibly
in your sleep, in the charcoal
gold light filtering through
your blinds, letting you see
a page like a window lit
by a parking lot. You will lie
there, you will tap sleepy
fingers over the floor to read
where your pen has rolled, over
the page to see what it has
to tell you. Your empty hand paces
like a guide dog to keep you
moving in straight lines. Each letter,
each word, you must know
by feel: the T like cheekbones,
the O like lips. You will teach
yourself the alphabet’s mnemonics,
learn to read aloud with your hands.
Spilecki, Susan. “Waking Early.” Byline June 1999: 18.
Brilliant poem. Inspiration so often comes in the sleeping hours.
Or just as you are waking, yes. Thanks!