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Showing posts from August, 2014

Aubade by Philip Larkin - The 4am Haymaker

When I was younger I had a fairly uneventful sleep pattern. It was simple: I would go to bed at night and right as a line, I would wake to morning light. It was as if what happened in between was none of my business.

I rarely knew what it was like to wake up prematurely in the quiet dark of 4am. But on those rare occasions that I did (and it was weirdly always within minutes of 4am), an unspeakable dread would overcome me and I would feel an inconsolable sadness that I could never speak about. I didn't know how to explain it to other people and it was too disturbing to elaborate. Until I discovered the poem below. He even got the hour right.

Thank god for poets, Philip Larkin, in particular, otherwise I'd still be rambling.

One more thing: I don't sleep through the night anymore so I haven't had that feeling in years. I'm not sure if I conditioned myself to sleep in fits to avoid it, but sometimes I think that in throwing out the bad I have thrown out some of the g…