Christina A. Sharik


The Nightmare (1781) by Henry Fuseli
The Nightmare (1781) by Henry Fuseli
I said to the old Night-Demon
I am sick unto death
of wrestling with you ~
I want you gone.

Bring it on,
broken-winged devil
Why be shy now…
come on across
come on through…
You know how…

My barriers are down
but my shield is lashed with pain
I will not be afraid of you
not ever again

My Soul is purified
it’s been singed in firefights
and forged in molten iron vats
in the factory of my nights.

Bring it on, Night-Demon
you’ll no longer hear my screams
I will stand and wait for you,
I’ll dash you with my cold tears
and fling you from my dreams.

This poem is a “partner” to, “Stone Soldiers” – ©Copyright October 20, 2004 by Faye Sizemore