A dramatic poem I wrote at 3 AM about my brain and how it functions whilst muscling through the forty-eighth virus my kids have caught this winter.

Winter is swift, cold

And with it, sickness drops on my daughters like a cloak

Thick and sleepless nights return 

All too familiar 

yet shocking like ice 

Coughs and tissues and tears 

And my once seemingly strengthening mind falters and crumbles 

Weakened by those interrupted hours. 

Soon the dark circles 

I care for little else than sleep 

My mind is unhinged 

My focus is dim

sleep

Please, sleep

No 

coughs and tissues and tears 

And now, what is this? 

Anxiety.

Yes- 

My familiar sister

She rears her familiar head. 

She cripples my chances

She clutches sleep further out of reach. 

Cough and tissues and tears 

And now, anxiety 

Because when sleep is scant, she always pays a visit

She makes herself comfortable 

Around and around she goes 

and my mind like a dance 

Will they heal from this ?

Am I helpless in watching

Are they still breathing ?

Almost in slumber 

But stop, are they still breathing ?

What if they’ve been entangled 

They must need me

Do not give in to the sleep 

Entangled mind 

Did I plug in the humidifier?

Is she still breathing? 

Please keep breathing 

Check 

and check again 

Round and round and round