As a special treat (for myself) I wanted to reimagine Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”, I hope you enjoy it.
Once upon too many midnights I was again awakened, feeling forever weak and weary.
Numerous nights I couldn’t sleep overcome with worry, stress, and the bills piling on the floor.
There came tiny footsteps beating down our hallway. They were not gently rapping or tapping.
They were running like a herd of elephants towards my chamber door.
“I know who is at my chamber door,” muttering words in exhaustion.
Tis not a visitor but my toddler, never sleeping.
He is coming towards my chamber door.
He has done the same thing many, too many, nights before.
It began with his birth on a cold, bleak February morning.
He decided then no one would ever sleep again. As ghosts are terrifying.
Insomnia is frightening. Circles are dark and deep like burnt ash under the fireplace floor.
Angels scream in unison, “Dear sweet, Estee Lauder, can’t hide the bags under your
eyes. You will be sleep deprived evermore.”
The toddler creaks open the chamber door. He wants a cookie.
He is entreating on my cherished sleep and my mind is racing a wishful call.
I tell him, “No cookies. No juice. You need to retreat back down the hall.”
He says, “I want. I want. I want. I need more. Mama, I can’t sleep unless
I get cookies and juice. You will sleep nevermore.”
Deep into parenting peering, I lay there with a fearing. He is a marvel.
His eyes are a reflection of heaven above. His hair is golden.
He smiles, and all are beguiled by his cuteness and fancy.
He creeps into my chamber door and
quoth the Toddler, “Sleep Nevermore.”
But the Toddler is trying to break me with a barrage of words creeping.
He is screaming, squawking, and beating the floor. Rolling in circles.
Throwing a tantrum, unparalleled from all before. He tells me,
“Elijah’s mom gives him cookies and juice at 1 a.m.
Mother, you will sleep
I mutter through a daze and the foggy early morning haze,
“I don’t care what Elijah’s mom does. You can’t have cookies and juice.”
My hope is but fleeting, the Toddler is not retreating.
He looks at me and speaks only two terrifying, bone chilling words,
Startled by his stern nature and determination. I reply, “Doubtless.”
I will sleep again and you will go back to bed. I am a merciful Mama. I will not be upset
by your early morning request. I will not yell or make haste to cry, to sob.
Quoth the Toddler, “Sleep Nevermore.”
He begins to fly around my chamber in a stirring. Running madly away from the door.
He will not go back to down the hall. He will not settle down, and thus it bears
repeating. The Toddler is the reason all parents will appear bone tired and weary.
The child with boundless energy and wants stretching far.
The Toddler is screeching,
Within a few hours, the Toddler has wore himself down, and begins sitting on my bed.
He perches upon the pillow, but his head will not lay forth to rest.
My eyes are slowly falling with lids heavy as an iron bust.
A few days rest is a hopeless dream
floating around a room of exhaustion.
My soul darkened by the thought of “sleeping nevermore.”