When The Night Comes Poem by Daleen Enslinstrydom

When the night comes I am afraid
but not afraid of the dark
but of the secrets
that the night holds in its long hours.

The night betrays me
it makes me vulnerable,
reveals my inner weaknesses
and am I unable to control it,

it transforms and changes
and in my mind and imagination
turns into an enemy
carving images out of my nightmares
and it brings a life to them.

Like a child I want to find comfort
in the neon angels next to my bed
and hope that the light
will reach the darkest part of my weary soul.

In my tormented struggle to fall asleep
the sheets become wrinkled and sweaty
and cling to me while I keep turning.

In my mind time becomes a ghost
that prosecutes me
while the clock on the wall
beats out the rhythms of my heart
into the early hours of the morning

and when the day finally does break
it brings a kind of peace of mind
and I am comfortable in the arms of sleep
when sleep itself becomes my lover
and I cling to him
until the sun colours the horizon
and light itself reigns again.