Too Much Grief

At night I go to sleep with dread, a picture jumps into my head; I hear the thumping of wings- then, a bird in a glass jar is dead. And I dream this same dream again, and again- though I count to ten; day and night are put asunder, so I write with a bleeding pen. Darwin would put me in order, my sadness I would surrender; all my suffering and weeping, helpless me- trapped in a corner. Oh, too much grief I am keeping, I feel shame when grief is creeping; but I must somehow find some joy, and sweet dreams I want when sleeping. _____________________ May 2, 2018 Poetry/Rubaiyat/Too Much Grief Copyright Protected, ID 18-1019-017-01 All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.