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)

Garbage Night

Don’t take out the garbage
during a black out – alligators
prowl in blackened streets,
lurk curbside waiting
for the unsuspecting –
I’ve seen them,
chasing the pedestrian,
my screams ineffective;
witnessed the brave
returning from the night
disheveled and shaken
Was it the alligator? I ask
with all the compassion
of I-told-you-so.
No, comes the reply,
it’s the tiger
out back.
So much danger
in the dark, please
wait till the lights
come on before
dealing with trash.

(Inspired by a dream and dedicated to my husband who never takes out the garbage the night before pick up.)

Photo from Trip Advisor

Shaken

The year my second daughter was born, it seemed to rain eternally.  I can’t say when the depression set in, but by February, I didn’t want to leave the house.  I prayed a lot to God, asking what was wrong with me.  By all accounts, I had everything anyone could want:  two beautiful children, a brand new home, friends and community.  The more I tried to rationalize, the greater my gloom.  Is there more to life than this?  I asked.

During this time I had a recurring dream, in which I visited my childhood home:

 I walk in the front door and notice that the carpet leading upstairs has been changed to one with geometric designs, and that the once blue carpet in the living and dining area is now red.  Upstairs, I see that one of the walls in my sister’s old room has been bricked over.  As I pass through the house, the inhabitants are unaware of my presence.  Only the family cat swishes her tail in annoyance at my presence.  Stepping out the backdoor, I fail to see that the step is missing, and fall, jolting myself awake.

Haunted by the dream’s insistence, I decided to drive by my old home.  A “for sale” sign on the front lawn revealed that this day was open for agent viewing.  Curious, I walked in.  A quick glanced revealed red carpets throughout, with a geometric pattern running up the stairs.  I rushed up the stairs and down the hall, where I found the room with the bricked wall.  How odd!  Descending the staircase, I glanced at the photos on the wall to see the faces from my dreams staring out at me.  In the kitchen, I spotted the cat’s bowls.  The agent on duty asked me if I wanted to see the back yard.  Remembering my dreams, I said no and made my exit back through the front door.

I drove a block before the trembling hit me.  Shaken, I pulled over.  What had just happened?  The house was exactly as I had dreamed it.  But why?  Everything suddenly seemed so surreal.  What did it all mean?

I felt as if I had just been hit over the head with a giant frying pan.  For months on end I had prayed to God and asked if there was something I was missing in my life, and now this.  I decided that God had answered my prayers, with one resounding “YES!”.  There was obviously more to life than what I was experiencing, but I would need to look within to find it.

Needless to say, that day changed my life.