If I Am Your Grace

When you scream to the empty dark of night And die to the silence it returns I do not consider you, I sleep - peacefully sometimes. The last time I had a nightmare of you, I God near drowned in the lint of my own blanket to the violence of my wake, My breath heavy and Indlamu on my chest But when reality returns- so do I- back to sleep I sit and watch gardens raise the earth And the butterflies be as I am- Simple Unbothered but desperate for rest the same. If I am your grace, no one comes to save you I do have my own graves to tend.