Sleep is the cousin of death

my dad used to say

he was afraid of what his dreams would bring him

Regret, Death, Guilt, Anguish

I imagine it brings him all of these

Would it be wrong of me to say

I hope it does?

I hope his sleep is not

a comfort

I hope his sleep is

not a reprieve from

all that he’s subjected

me

Would it be wrong of me to say

I hope he hurts?

I hope he wonders how I sleep

How I remove

myself from trauma

How I move on

I hope it hurts him to know

that my sleep

Is the sleep sans pea

Clear, Endless, Restful

A sleep he craves

The sleep of victims

The sleep saved only for those

who have fought and won

Our sleep is an anthem

A song of resistance

A song of victory