Four am and I’m awake again,
I try my best in bed to remain.
I am unsuccessful,
Thoughts are running through my brain.
In my heart, I bear so much pain.
By five am I’m out of bed,
While making coffee tears I shed.
We are facing an acute war ahead,
And my marriage is probably dead.
I make my way to the terrace,
I sit and smoke and write.
Here, between morning and night.
I have an hour till sunrise brings the light,
My fingers feel like I have a frostbite.
As I write my tears run down my face,
They freeze on my cheeks as I try to embrace
What happened to me at this very place.
I accept that healing has its own pace.