sleepless

she sat by the bedside
silent, staring into space
the fluorescent lamp trickles
pouring slowly against the night

“wake up, wake up, grandpa”
she bellows, her voice cutting
into the night, “wake up”

her husband stirs slightly, and
then turns in his sleep
“i’m ninety three, have three children
i have seven grandchildren, one great-grand daughter.”
she counts, still sitting by the bedside

“wake up, wake up, grandpa, grandpa”
finally he awakens, asks “what?
why are you not sleeping, it is late, why
is the light on, why am i awoken, why
have you not slept.”

she doesn’t answer, continuing her
silent stance, like a statue, but not
buddha, she is not a vegetarian, not
jesus, she has never heard of him
but a statue, can you imagine
she just sits there, asking “why am i not asleep?”

“you think too much,” her husband snaps
irritated and impatient, “just sleep, and
stop shouting. you’re waking up everybody,
everybody is sleeping now. just sleep. and switch
off the lights.”

but she sits, staring onto the white walls
no one knows what’s in her mind, not even
the snoring sound could calm her down

her grandson walks past the room, exclaims,
“damn it, granny, why aren’t you asleep, it’s
late, three in the morning, and i thought i was
late, i thought only i needed to forsake sleep
for work. damn it, sleep.”

and he switched off the lights, went straight to
his bed, and slept like a log, dreaming of happy
things and tomorrow’s work, the day after tomorrow,
the day after the day after tomorrow, and the next new year

but the lights came on again, she
settles in the same position, the same side
staring at the same wall, noticing a crack
on the wall, tiny itsy bitsy ants crawling in
and out, and in, and out. but she doesn’t kills
them, not with her slippers as she usually
would, she just wants to sit silently tonight
staring at the wall.

she hear raindrops, and wind, and more raindrops
is there a storm brewing, she thinks of the windows
but she doesn’t move, she just sits there silently
and then speaks to herself again, softly “i’m ninety three,
have three children, seven grandchildren,
and one great-grand daughter.”

the snoring stopped, and he woke up
again, irritated, asks, “and why is the light
still on, why are you not asleep, why?”

she doesn’t answer, but just sits, facing away
staring at the same white wall, the ants have
disappeared from sight, but the crack is still there
frustrated, her husband got up, walks to the
light switch, turn off the lights, and went back to
sleep, dreaming of his happy childhood, his first kiss
and some other things, some forgotten things

but the lights went on again, this
time she chooses to stare at the ceiling
but still sitting at the same position, slightly
arched against the wall, watching the
fluorescent light paint the ceiling from
white, into a brighter white, watching for
cracks in the ceiling, but she doesn’t find any

and she kept on watching, until the clock
struck four, then five, then six, and her
granddaughter came by, with school uniforms
and all, asking, “hey granny, why are you up so
early, are you going somewhere?”

she doesn’t answer, her granddaughter doesn’t
care, she’s late for school, she forgot to do
her homework, and needs to think of an excuse
but her granny, she just sits silently on the bed
by the side, watching, not the ceiling, not the wall
not anything, waiting, till the dawning daylight
consumes the brightness of the fluorescent lights,
until from somewhere outside the window, the
birds started chirping, singing, whatever, somewhere
further, a car engine starts.

then the clock struck seven.