3.20 A.M 
by Pamela Hardyment

DON'T BRING ME TO THE LOONY BIN
WHERE SPLINTERS OF LIGHT
PRISE OPEN
UNWILLING EYES
WHERE PARROTS CACKLE TILL I STOP UP MY EARS
AND HEAR
THE DISTANT CRY OF INNOCENTS

THE RAIN TAPS GENTLY ON THE WINDOW PANE
THE BLOOD DROPS QUIETLY ON THE PAGE
AND MAKES THE SAME DULL SOUND
THE LAUGHING AND THE RAIN
FALL LOUDLY
INTO MY HEAD
AND I CANNOT SLEEP

I STARE AT THE BLOOD RED TIME
THAT GLOWS IN THE BLACK ROOM
ITS 3.20 am
THE WINDOW RATTLES
AND I AM COMFORTED
IN MY TROUBLED WOMB

Pam is a lifelong sufferer of depression who
refuses to take chemical cures or see psychiatrists. Knowing where her
depression stems from, she believes the best cure is to live existentially,
'Suffering is a part of life; fortunately I have avoided the white jacket of the
institution, and most people think I am really upbeat!'
Pam is the Arts Editor for The Palestine Telegraph