Alarm Clocks

The poetry of alarm clocks is life’s urgency badly named. Alarm? As if there were not motivations of fear enough in this world. Pocket-sized machinery shreds night’s quiet blanket of dark. So many high-pitched horns wailing. As if day were a planned emergency, the body a hurtling ambulance. What if Rumi were to lean and whisper in our ears instead? ‘The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep…’

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