Inspired by the poem "Variation on the Word Sleep" by Margaret Atwood
I know the moment sleep takes you, leading you away from me,
into landscapes sculpted by unspoken thoughts,
molded by forgotten memories.
Your breath slows, a quiet metronome -
its rhythm soothes me as I lay beside you,
wondering where you are now, if the air is sweet.
When you move, perhaps a whisper
shall escape your slightly-parted lips,
a murmur I cannot translate, but can only feel.
When a tempest shakes you, disturbs your peace,
I put my hand upon your shoulder
or place my leg gently over yours, calming those tides
that would submerge you far from my reach;
no matter where or how you slip, I will catch you.
Darkness and sorrow would diminish each of us
if we had no arms to hold us as these long hours pass;
loneliness defines our secret thoughts unshared.
When your chest rises and falls,
I am there, watching.
I am your lighthouse keeper -
as seas batter the infinite shoreline,
as the moon recedes behind the mist,
I hold the brightest light steady and aloft,
a beacon designed to bring you safely home.