Living the Dream

Stumbling into dark half-sleep,
where danger lurks on sharp edges of night,

I find a path, pitted with sorrow
that leads me, again, and again,
to that beleaguered burial grounds

grasping loose promises, like dried flowers
up bone-ridge climes, grown-over stones,
littered with last night’s near visitation,
I try to step to that falling-off place
life means for me to fling from

letting go of you means I must visit
the very point of our demise

I have stepped this way before, and in terror,
tumbled back into my beautiful dreams
of what we were and where we might have flown
had we still wings and feather’s still
bestowed by angels who arched away
when mad mists erased your memories

so lonely did they leave me, treading air,
not tempting fate in finally letting go
for I am not courageous enough
to struggle up this steep side of Gone
and face emptiness etched on stone hard heart
denying me any further rise to remembrance

slipping down into acceptance of goodbye
in petroglyphs of bone-dry burial grounds
would scrape my heart raw forever

I turn, and rush down every step I have taken,
dropping pitiful petals as evidence that I have tried
to escape an ultimate undeniable reality
that you exist only in these midnight wanderings

Tags: Beloved Be, Poems //