He’s Tired

He’s tired. 

Please, wake me up

So I can go

And lift the world

He trembles through. 

I’m supposed to be

The arms that hold

Through death and pain

Through naught and gold.

He’s tired.

We try the floor

We try the air,

This blanket’s thin

I really do care!

Is it working?

I wouldn’t know.

Just wake me up

So I can go. 

He’s tired.

No medicine

Will do the trick.

The street’s too loud,

This pillow too thick.

He cries to me

Though I can’t fix

His life or mind,

Or workplace tricks.

He’s tired.

But still he comes

To bed with me.

He’ll stay up late

With a baby.

He’ll hold me close

With each nightmare,

And, bleary-eyed,

Makes sure I’m cared.

He’s tired.

But he still gets up

Before the sun

And works long after

I am done.

He’ll burn the candle

At both ends,

So I can have him

As a friend.

He’s tired.

I can’t stand to see!

Just how tired

My true love can be.

Am I so weak

That he must stand

When he should sleep,

When he even can’t?

For even when

His head lays low,

My darling’s sleep

Is bad–I know

Because he’s tired

As I speak. 

Every morn, every day,

Each hour, each week.

My darling, my love,

My poor husband.

I can’t be tired

when he needs my hand.

I can’t be the one

who needs sleep.

Why must I be

so weak?