Those 3 a.m. Voices

Sometimes at exactly 3, I sit straight up in bed as if someone called my name.

I sense something, a presence that I realize is just me calling out to myself.

My mind at once opens one of two drawers.  One marked trouble, the other grace, if I pause, choosing the latter.

Writing is the first gift kept on top…my art, my love of words, communing on the page. It also resides in the trouble file as though grace was bleeding from it’s bottom, feeling inadequate in my abilities.

The clock ticks loudly at 3 a.m. giving each prospective equal time to state it’s case.

Who do you think you are, makes his appearance next to, boy was your mother right when she said, you were stupid. Toss in those you thought were friends who behind your back ridicule and you’re breaking pencils, tearing pages, determined to remove your hard drive.

Then when the prosecution rests, quite full of itself, the defense sweeps in like the creative cavalry to prove, such claims are untrue.

Victory, though shaky, is mine as I write down bones to a blog piece, or lay track for the next paragraph to a short story.

I stretch my legs, massage my wrists then listen to those who too were on trial with themselves coming before me.

Dwell in possibility, Emily Dickinson says, as I nod letting go of my supreme need to control all outcomes.

There’s no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you, adds Maya Angelou, echoing that need to write. 

No tears in the writer means, no tears in the reader. Thank you Mr. (Robert) Frost, this is so comforting.

And if my doubts still persist Anne Frank appears like a falling star to say, I can shake off everything as I write, my sorrows disappear. My courage is reborn.  

Remember, grace meets us where we are Susannah, but does not leave us where it found us.  Anne Lamott.                                        

The defense rests 



About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
This entry was posted in Beauty, Books, Faith, grace, Gratitude, humanity, Love, readng, words, writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

34 Responses to Those 3 a.m. Voices

  1. skinnyuz2b says:

    The hour between 3 and 4 is known as the witching hour. And those invading thoughts are legendary. They used to keep me awake until I learned to focus on the book I was currently reading. I go over the plot so far, the characters, and try to guess what’s going to happen. Before I know it, I’m asleep again.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sounds like an exhausting night. They visit me too sometimes.


  3. micklively says:

    Love the prose, Susannah! You’ve captured self-doubt and insomnia so well.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. All food for thought, and I’m probably going to make a pig out of myself too. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Patricia says:

    I guess we all have those wee hours visitors from time to time. I usually beat them back with a cup of hot chocolate and prayer.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. gmg says:

    They are the healthy vs the unhealthy sides of your personality going to war. I know what side I’m on. Keep writing as beautifully as you do……..

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Great post!



  8. There is nothing like the need to throw on a striped shirt and whistle in the middle of the night to referee my head.
    Anne, Maya, Robert & Emily, now there’s a squad I’d like on speed dial.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Your Defense attorney was excellent. I see more than just a hint of you there.
    Wonderful post.


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