in the darkness at 3 am

in the darkness of 3 am
is not the best time to see
bigger than life in your mind
the tall glass of juice that your child
was holding
and most likely drank
at the late supper you shared together

in the darkness at 3 am
it is too late to second guess
that decision
and pull back the words
“You poured it,
now you’d better drink all of that”

in the darkness at 3 am
you realize that what’s done is done
and most likely there will be sheets to wash
in a few hours
and you curse the day you bought that washer,
the one that is not amenable
to getting clothes clean anymore,
the one that doesn’t want to spin out
if it has more than three items in a load

in the darkness at 3 am
you immediately regret the cursing of a day,
a day given as a gift
to live and breathe and love
and change things for the better–
it seems akin to a sin
to curse any one of the few folks are given

in the darkness at 3 am
you find grace when you realize
this isn’t the first time you’ve cursed that
very day,
since the day the washer was bought
was the same day the one you loved
who gave you life
lay fighting for her own life
and you had cursed the day
and all the ones who didn’t seem as intent on saving her
as you would have liked

in the darkness at 3 am
once again the guilt
over cursing any day-
she’d have your hide
and chew you up one side and down the other
for not giving thanks and rejoicing
in any day, every day

in the darkness at 3 am
the silence is deafening
and knowing the dawn
and all it will bring is coming soon
you beckon sleep

in the darkness at 3 am
it’s too early to rise
too late for regrets
and no one awake to tell you
“everything will be all right”

because in the darkness at 3 am
you know better
what’s done is done
and the world keeps turning
in spite of too much juice
washers in need of repair
and hearts that have been broken

the world keeps turning
even in the darkness at 3 am