Lowly.

I opened my eyes with the thought in my mind,

the futility of running this routine another time,

the cruelty attached to waking hours in sunshine,

the frailty that’s latched itself inside my eyes,

tells a tale to me against my own will,

spills the history flooded between me and Hell,

bites the fingertip feeding me strips of roast beef,

hangs me by my thumbs from a weeping willow tree,

steals away my everything,

down to every teeny piece,

I can’t even find the smile in my sleep,

it’s been stolen from me.

Gobble, Fucking Gobble.

I guess sometimes my nightmares must consist of things that directly tie into my dwindling sense of motherhood; as, there are mornings when I wake up feeling deeply wounded by this element of my irretrievably haunting visits to the realm of dreamland. This experience, when it happens, is enough to have me in full-blown tears of grief and devastation before my bare feet even touch the cold wood of the floor. There are so many sensations and notions attached to these mornings (thank Gods they are few and far between) that it quickly becomes difficult, if not impossible, to process any of them…they just sit there on the stagnant surface of my consciousness, too blurred and ambiguous to get my head or hands around. I guess today, I am thankful that these nights do not catch me slippin’ all too often…because when they do, I pay for it for a few days afterward.

Happy Turkey Day, y’all.

 

Wake-up Call.

I am plagued by “night terrors” in a bad way sometimes; and seemingly at random. Of course, nothing is at random when it comes to the intricacies of the human psyche, however…this, I know. This morning, I awoke with the layer of jello-like sweat from head to toe, the image still singed freshly into my mind, my heart pounding as if it will come right through my aching rib-cage. I look around me in complete confusion and disarray, unsure at first which direction to swing my fists in – so I just swing wildly around me in frustration.

The strange man whom I had just watched slide a knife into my daughter’s head as she screamed bloody murder was nowhere to be found in my room; nor was my daughter of course.

This was at 5:49am and my skin stills crawls; my heart still hurts itself as it thumps against my chest; my mind still searches for someone to receive my wrath and vengeance, someone to protect or rescue.

I fucking hate it.

Open-Ended Places.

I dreamed again last night
of your younger life
of visions I saw
when things were alright
when the future ahead
was laid out, bathed in light
and the time hadn’t yet come
to hold my own defeat tight
I dreamed of open ended places
where anything stood possible
in its own living right
I dreamed again of nothing
but bathing you in sunlight
and opening the doors
that you’ve kept closed in life
I dreamed again of motherhood
in a victorious bond held high
I dreamed of never knowing you
as you’ve come to slice my pride
I dreamed again of rescuing you
from the darkness where you reside
and redressing wounds, unhealed
wiping blood from those beautiful eyes
I dreamed again of your newborn face
and all the promise inside if your smile
I awoke on fire and screaming aloud
a visit from my long-lost child.