Night Terrors (finished)

[RiverNotch]

Third edit:

Night Terrors

The air is always flat this time of night,
flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside
in wintertime. I slow my breathing down:
I don't want to break the ice.

When I go to bed, I never shut my light,
a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside?
There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift,
unlike the shadows of my bed.

Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness at night
is home to creatures fanged and clawed; but outside,
the horrors are familiar, real and steady
in their motives, while my bed-sheets
shelter only water.

I've broken through the ice before. I remember light,
cold moonlight, crashing through the winter ice outside,
filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady,
never failing faith. Then, I was pulled up
by the rooster's crow.

Second edit:

The air is always flat this time of night,
flat and cold and quiet like the lake outside
in wintertime.  I slow my breathing down:
I don't want to break the ice.

When I sleep, I never turn off my light,
a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside?
There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift,
unlike the shadows of my bed.

Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness at night
is home to creatures fanged and clawed. But outside,
at least, the horrors are familiar, while my bed-sheets
shelter only water.

I've been swallowed whole before. I remember light,
cold moonlight, breaking through the winter ice outside,
filling my lungs, choking me. Then, I was pulled up
by the rooster's crow.

First edit:

Pavor Nocturnus

The air is always flat this time of night,
flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside,
in wintertime. I slow my breathing down:
I don't want to break the ice.

When I sleep, I never turn off my light,
a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside? 
There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift,
unlike the shadows of my bed.

Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness, at night,
is home to creatures fanged and clawed. But outside,
the horrors are familiar, real and steady
in their motives, while my bed-sheets
shelter only water.

I've been swallowed whole, before. I remember light,
cold moonlight, breaking through the winter ice outside,
filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady,
never failing faith. Then, I was pulled up
by the rooster's crow.

First draft:

Vespertine

The air is always flat this time of night,
flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside,
in wintertime. My breaths, I slow down, I steady,
I keep soft: I don't want to break the ice
and drown, get swallowed whole.

When I sleep, I never turn off my room's light,
a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside
at night? There, the twisted trunks of oak are steady
in their places: there, the darkness is sure,
unlike the shadow of my bed.

Like the shadow of my bed, the wilderness, at night,
is home to creatures fanged and clawed. But outside,
at least, the horrors are familiar, real and steady
in their motives, while my bed-sheets
shelter only water.

I've been swallowed whole, before. I remember light,
cold moonlight, breaking through the winter ice outside,
filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady,
never failing faith. Then, I was pulled up
by the rooster's crow.