Slumbered Dreams

I cling

I squeeze

I overwhelm

I terrify

Then I release

Then I crawl back in careful steps: hand, foot, hand, foot, touching ground

My knees scrape against the asphalt, searing

Stings like porcupine sticks

I hadn’t meant to, had only longed to

Play and dance, and play and dance, and be in the light of newness and good

But I danced alone in shadowed mixed with nothing more than me and me

I reached out to my own hands, my own heart, spotted illusion intermingled with desperation

Seeking partnership in the unlikely and unaware

Garden delights in speckled weeds, and yet I pluck the roots as if to save

When naught remains to harvest

Little sand crab burrowed deep, bubbles of breath in ocean remnants

Blobs of sand on shore of wet

I’d not meant to travel far in child’s land

But venture called, his hands clapping my return

Couldn’t help my legs from skipping, my beating soles against threads of bones

Forgotten long ago in graveyard gone

To find again the voice that whispered

When as youth I touched the stream of wishing tales

To immerse again in droplets of riverbed’s babes

To sink beneath surface and seek not once, but forevermore the serenity of connection

Traveler, yes, wearied, no

For I shall leap until the sun sleeps, the morrow bursts, and justice slips between the seams

For nothing remains untouchable in slumbered dreams

By Sam Craft May 16, 2012

 

“The worst feeling isn’t being lonely. It’s being forgotten by someone you could never forget.” ~ author unknown