avatarDeborah Weir

Summary

The web content features a poem titled "Awake" by Deb Weir, accompanied by a photograph, and includes links to her other works and her Medium profile.

Abstract

The webpage presents a reflective poem named "Awake" by Deb Weir, which evokes a sense of introspection and tranquility through its description of a quiet night. The poem is complemented by a serene image of light and shadow, credited to Mpho Mojapelo. Additionally, the page provides access to other poetic works by the author, including "Girl" and "Farewell to a Fraud," as well as a link to Deb Weir's Medium profile, where readers can explore her full portfolio of stories that span academia, arts, and personal insights.

Opinions

  • The poem "Awake" suggests a contemplative mood, emphasizing the quietness and darkness of the night, which may reflect the author's personal state of mind or a broader theme of solitude.
  • The act of lowering the volume and covering the eyes with a sheet in the poem indicates a desire for isolation or a retreat into one's thoughts.
  • The mention of the movie's end and the silent dark that follows could symbolize the end of a distraction and a return to reality or self-awareness.
  • The images in the pictures on the dresser being described as having "eyes wide and frozen" introduces a sense of nostalgia or the passage of time, as if the subjects are caught in a moment that has passed.
  • The presentation of other works by Deb Weir, with intriguing titles and excerpts, suggests a diverse range of themes and a willingness to engage with both personal and political subjects.

POETRY

Awake

Photo by Mpho Mojapelo on Unsplash

One.

Funny.

Two.

Awake, as ever.

The glow of a familiar movie flickers and flows across the walls. Your breathing is gentle, and deep.

I could try. Maybe I’ll try

Three.

Little has changed.

I yawn, though it’s meaningless. Turn the volume down to a whisper and cover my eyes with the sheet, to block out the light.

The movie ends. I pull the sheet off my face and the silent dark settles over me.

Four.

Quiet, mostly.

And dark. But I can still make out the shape of us beneath the blanket.

The faces in the pictures on the dresser, stuck with me, eyes wide and frozen.

So quiet.

Five.

Other poems from Deb

Find all of Deb’s stories here

Insomnia
Sleep
Poem
Poetry
Life
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