What Dreams Reveal

Two decades before the fall
I dreamt of that white house
with black shutters,
entered the dimness
and saw myself –
withered, a straw body

Could I have altered the course
gathered that mummified self
in my arms, breathed new passion
into old bones, stopped
the onslaught of night
of cells freezing
passionless

No.
I walked in oblivion
seduced by false trickery
dim-witted in the fading light
cold, aloof, unresponsive
warnings be damned

Two decades later,
body inert, mind bereft
of hope – I dreamt
of a younger self
so intent on life
that she passed me by.

Superstition

The stare isn’t vacant;
it’s absorbed; attentive –
the being on high alert

I’ve seen cats like this before
crossed the road to avoid
their supernatural curse

But this creature is different,
dares me to make a move…
Why do I feel I’ve already lost?

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter. Image mine.)

Wounded Feminine

On entering the tunnel, I see her –
pallor a notable shade of ghostly

Tattered, her dress hangs in billowing
folds of transparency; she beckons

No words pass between us, but
her haunting gaze begs audience

So, I bear witness to her tale –
a gruesome re-enactment of her death

Slow and agonizing, her femininity
scalded and tortured till flesh festered

and infection drove her to madness –
no solace offered, no medicine rendered

No more than a child, I now see –
a tragic retelling of innocence turned victim

Do not look away, her spirit commands,
the suffering continues, and I will haunt

Till justice recognizes the crime
and restitution restores balance.

(Reena’s Xploration offered the opening line, and Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – notable– added to the narrative. This apparition appeared to me in that tunnel between waking and sleep, begging that I share her story. Image my own)

Afraid To Fly

I chase dreams
never daring to rise
beyond the water line

keeping to the reeds
and shoreline of familiarity
afraid of being shot down

Afraid that dreams aren’t mine
to claim, that I am damned
doubled cursed as woman
and child of sin

I will fall often
drown in pools of stagnation
till one days these wings

A mind of their own
will lift me up
and catch those dreams.

(Afraid To Fly appeared here June 2019.
Art my own)