At 4.14 am, I'm awake again

Insomnia strips me and wilts me;

Tiredness balloons my face with frowns

Strips me down like the wind strips 

Autumn trees, bleeds me dry.

Leaves me high and dry

On this deserted shore of times gone-by

Where I am forced onto my knees.

O! The strength we need to plead

For forgiveness: poems of crisis,

Virus stories, empty - bellied 

Redemption songs

Make me long for the kind of home

That allows for rest and recuperation,

If only on a temporary basis,

For all us sinners. Broken folk

Who stutter along.

Singing redemption song.