Now I lay me down to sleep.
I beg you Lord to hear me weep.
Though slumber lets no sounds emerge,
It seems as if my soul to purge.
The trauma lies in waiting there.
It haunts me not in daylight fair.
But when the sun has long been set,
My dreams do not let me forget.
If I should die before I wake,
What blessing not to have to take
Another breath . . . and hurt again.
Be with me in my dreams. Amen.
Belinda Martinez © 1990 |
