Before the light
touches my sleepy eyes,
I go deep for moments,
trying to catch the remnants
of my dreams.
Line them up as in a patchwork,
gatherings of hard and soft,
places of familiar and many new,
wondrous and disturbing sometimes,
not unlike a river whose flow
rushes over endless rocks,
Some of jade, some of ivory if caught
by the sunlight.
Carnelian roughs its colors near slippery green
mosses,
only dragonflies flutter their wings nearby.
Water, slippery like my dream flows,
drag and twist and brighten my sleep,
toss me around
while my arms lie still
and my eyes flutter with the passing
ships in the night.
I lay in my pillows, shut eye,
traveling back in time,
my wings seem to be made of
feathery flesh,
their bones are light,
tired from the long nights and heavy from
carrying the stardust
accumulated from years of waiting,
watching, listening, and caring.
Zillions of stars watch over me while I sleep,
and troubles and concerns from worldly
awareness,
seem to trick their madness into liquids of
dissolve, and disappear into clouds of soft
pillows, holding me gently on my journey
to inside myself.
© Heidi McGurrin 11/3/2017
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