I think it’s stress, the reason I can’t sleep,
it doesn’t matter what I eat, or when I go
to bed, if I fall asleep at all, sooner or later
I’m wide awake and sleep takes flight, I’m
so tired I don’t want to sit upright, the only
explanation for this exhausting occurrence
is unconscious stress about returning to the
open-plan office, repeating the experience
of last year, fighting for my sanity in a chaotic,
stressful situation, the specter’s looming larger
every day, John Maxwell’s book on Leadership
points out that problems reveal our inner nature;
school where we were forced to sit in class was
bad enough, but sitting in a sea of restless, noisy
colleagues is worse than anything I’ve known
before; with my senses raw, trying to see it as a
form of persecution, a challenge to be overcome,
to meet it with endurance, my conscious mind is
trying while my subconscious is shriveling up in
unmitigated fear and angst, anxiety is making
life unbearable…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem