Late at night, the speaker is afraid to fall asleep. Sleep should bring rest, but she dreads waking in the dark and reaching out for a loved one who is not there. Instead of a warm body, she imagines the darkness itself pressing close: cold, hungry, and almost alive. It breathes into her mouth and runs its fingers through her hair, trapping her until dawn. The only relief would be candlelight, even though it hurts her tired eyes, because the darkness feels too much like a clinging, unwanted presence. The poem creates an eerie, restless mood, mixing grief and physical unease. Longing for comfort twists into fear, and the night becomes a kind of haunting. She cannot sleep, yet staying awake leaves her exhausted and raw.
Strain — Summary
It is late And the clock is striking thin hours. But sleep has become a terror to me. Lest I wake in the night Bewildered, And stretching out my arms to comfort myself with you. Clasp instead the cold body of the darkness. All night it will hunger over me, And push and undulate against me. Breathing into my mouth And passing long fingers through my drifting hair. Only the dawn can loose me from it, And the grey streaks of morning melt it from my side.
Bring many candles. Though they stab my tired brain And hurt it. For I am afraid of the twining of the darkness And dare not sleep.