The Dark of the Night -Robyn Makaruk

Here they are

Phantoms of the night

Seeping into me like a wet fog

Before I make it to that

Blissful, dreamless state

Here they are,

Those phantoms of the night 

Messing with my mind,

Parrying and thrusting swords into 

Benign daytime issues, churning them into

Rancid butter.

Here they are,

Those phantoms of the night

They’re making inner conflicts rise up in the bile tract

To surge into full-blown reflux of self absorption,

Causing distrust of my inner vision.

They are still here, dammit,

Those phantoms of the night, 

Ratcheting up the rancor, 

Causing a heart rate to climb, teeth to grind

And bedclothes to twist into a hangman’s  

Noose around my neck.

Then, by a miracle,

Those phantoms of the night

Do not win the fight.

I float into that interstitial space

That closes the door on the battleground

And opens to a pastoral scene.

They are no longer here, 

Those phantoms of the night

I can leave this bed of thorns and return 

To that Ocean of Livingness

Where once again

I’ll be in tune with the Universe

                                                             ***