While ego slumbers
we slip the confines
of earthly limitation
Minds launching
abundance of ideas,
souls reaching
with insatiable glee
no longer hindered
by societal gaze
we bathe in otherness
naked and alive, till
dawn shutters dreams.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Tiger stalks
dreamtime –
meaning elusive
I am technology
dependent –
AI stimulating
connection
Sense and instinct
shelved in favour
of pings and beeps
Only in sleep
do I glimpse
real power.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson
Image my own)
Sun’s gift a final blaze
draws me to cliff’s edge
darkness doesn’t credit day
owes it allegiance to another
the great moon orator
whose tides and pull
send me plunging
ego-less and flailing
till morning sets me
on my feet again.
(Image my own)
Descending
into the mythical
entranced
spurred by
severity of
current challenge
Call it fantasy
but attempting
movement is
destroying
my passage
I am pulling,
shattering
this barricade
of a life; blue
progressing:
ocean bound.
(Mermaid Dreams was originally written in December of 2016, two years bedridden. Only in the dreamtime was I whole and capable of overcoming. Dreams are one thing I can talk about for thirty minutes without preparation: my challenge this week. Image my own.)
Ingrained in me
this flight
eye on the future
the periphery
closing in.
Husband urges me
forward, but where
this road leads
I do not know
Connected to self
open, escaping into
the vast expanse
becoming fluid
alive, nurtured
I have been spit out
by life so often,
taught to be taut,
it’s hard to plunge,
let go of the past
and just swim.
(Submitting for my weekly challenge: peripheral. Image my own.)
Kingfisher, my horse
transports me to unseen realms
a fleshless dreamer
seeking oneness, Orenda,
a noetic salvation.
(Tuesday, I borrow from my Twitter account @Vjknutson. Image my own)
I dream of a woman
Mother-centred
grey-haired essence
oozing strength –
a vessel, rain focused
decoding political lies.
Leaders are locked
targeting anxiety
selective stances
patriarchal bedmates
ending unsafe
Rioters blow up
martyr consciousness
metamorphosis in throngs
chemicals insignificant
when innocence ignored
temples violated.
What is next?
A future gatekeeper
spouting personal freedom
recalling pleas, charming
ghosts of the past?
We need
discernment,
a woman
Mother-centred
grey-hair wise
leading the way.
(I dreamt of a goddess figure, and attempted to capture her in the pencil drawing featured. Working on that dream, many things have emerged. The poem above is just on example.)
My faith is goat steady –
surefooted in rocky times –
I keep her within sight,
safely separated.
Store her with potential –
mountain lion persistent –
set them on the other side
of vision – lock myself away.
It’s the tigress in my heart
that unsettles me the most –
certain by her pacing
that she’ll consume me
Tremble at the demands –
self being called to embrace
something higher, deeper –
an assertion of essence.
( “Contemplating Emergence” is the name of the art, that like the poem, found its origins in my dreams.)
If I appear to function,
it is testament to adaptability –
I am socially awkward,
with a side of dreamer –
wandering, spinning,
need someone to bring me back –
not adverse to fairytale kisses
or happily-ever-afters –
please, somebody beam me up,
set me down where life is
a festival – music, costumes,
the joyous sensation of belonging.
Muted shades of browns
and greys
define my black and white
existence
while succulent pink skies
explode in my dreams: neon
green vibrancy beckoning,
enticing – rude reminders.
My life is measured in
handfuls
one visit a week, two
outings
three phone calls, seven
minutes
for standing, fifteen for
sitting.
I dream in exponentials
multiples of numbers,
unlimited possibilities,
combinations, outcomes.
I live a stripped down
dirt floor
one room, structurally
unsound
solitude, boundary-less
instability
and dream of concrete
cities, institutions housing,
nurturing, protecting, life
with abundance – crowds.
How do I resign myself
to this juxtaposed reality,
fill in the missing gaps,
find sustenance in a void?
Acceptance is shattered,
faith
undermined, storm clouds
intensifying
threatening cyclones of
chaos
blacken the horizon, no
bottom
in sight to ease this soul.
Only in dreams will I find
my legs, run with mercy,
embrace freedom, and
know fullness of spirit,
fueling one more day
of survival,
until I am once again
whole.
One Woman's Quest 