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