At 3am

by Pamela A. Corbett / April 21st, 2019

She stares in darkness—
listening,
to the blood rushing
through her body,
to the rhythm
of an old, whispered hymn.
She waits—
the night reveals secrets,
yet it cleaves to shadows
while she deciphers
what happened.
The truth haunts her.
Yet it doesn’t matter
what is true,
only what is perceived
to be true.
It makes no difference
who is right anymore,
for in America
justice is but a game.

Pamela A. Corbett is a writer and teacher who lives in Bedford Hills, NY with her husband, three children, and their dog, Sofie. She loves to garden, read, and bike along the horse farms and reservoirs, and on Fire Island where there are no cars, just an abundance of nature. Her work has previously appeared in Haiku Journal, Boston Literary Magazine, The Journal of Classical Poets, and Prelude Magazine. She is currently working on a memoir about her mother. Read other articles by Pamela A..

This article was posted on Sunday, April 21st, 2019 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.