Surfacing from deep sleep, that moment
when the disciplined get up immediately,
the self-motivated can’t wait to get on doing their life,
the blest open their eyes with praise upon their lips,
the tardy look with horror at the bedside clock,
or the peremptory alarm floods the body with adrenalin,
while the rest of us pull the bedclothes over our head
to keep the world out of ourselves, or vice versa,
not I..
half-surfacing to some stony ledge
in the ocean of part consciousness
I am at one with every depressive, every would-be suicide,
every spiritual down-and-out,
every being who feels their worthlessness,
as one inspecting carefully the contents
of the fullish bag of a vacuum cleaner
finding there, naught for my comfort
until, if I’m lucky, some passing concern
for another human being
takes the place of fervent morning hymn
and I may feel I have some place,
some part to play in this strange drama
that we find ourselves thrust onstage to play,
wondering if we learned the lines aright;
and after this chastening roller-coaster
of humility, mayhap another chance to seek myself,
I, dispassionately, rise.
Michael Shepherd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0020-awakening-to-myself/
