A Bad Good Dream

A Bad Good Dream

Eyes half open
you realize it’s morning
and although a dream-soaked
forest of night,
star-scattered moon path,
insisted everything was well
and as before –
so excited you found you could run,
right arm normal again
pointing full stretch toward a Snowy Owl –
daylight now smirks a different truth.
You slide from the bed
good side first,
drag a broken body to the bathroom.
The mirror witnesses it all;
tsunami in a single tear of sadness.

 

This is just how it goes sometimes. Writing and sharing dilutes these emotions, restores gratitude, and maybe others going through the same feelings may at least realise they are not alone.

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Claustrophobia

A bee flies into the kitchen

buzzes frantically, panics,

thrashes against the glass;

outward display of fear

just like the one she

held inside herself for years.

She would berate herself,

pathetic weakness;

now her heart bleeds

compassion for them both.

She softly guides this

frightened soul towards freedom.

It’s okay to admit you’re scared.

Time to Sing

The tall tree at the
bottom of the garden
is no longer depressed;
I think the birds are
giving her hope.
So very long has she been
winter-sad, standing limp
wearing only grey
unable to raise a smile
or jump for joy
the way she knows she can.

Then this morning
as the sun broke loose and
the birds arrived like Heinz 57
singing all at once and
miraculously in tune,
the happy tree in her
opera-singer white frills
bowed to her audience of one,
joined the song and
now she can’t stop.

I have no sense of pitch
but I am singing with them anyway;
you may hear us sing our way
through summer,
and perhaps even beyond
if we remain aware that
even on the darkest days
the song will always be there;
all we have to do is remember to sing.

 

April 2014 265

Wendy L. Macdonald

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