For Gail, Wilma, Sally, Janet and Chris
Dreams come as night creeps from hour to hour—
Never always slow, dreams come and go
quickly in the dark, then fade within the light,
Burn within mind an image or song….
Visions giving voice, curving round retina,
Climbing up against closed eye,
Speak in unknown tongue to be discerned
So blindness can be restored through deeper sight.
Dreams yearn to speak to conscious mind,
Approach invited as poor guest to share at table
Stories from a foreign land, whispering past,
Sources from the deepest well now cast
Upon the heart of stones, move softly,
Spreading balance into reasoned air,
Not gold, but truth…. reduced and clear as day.
Like ointment for fragile eyes, a feast,
A sword to wield resisting sleepless haste,
Waking joys to come, sole comfort to the dawn.
Sun of morning touching body’s mountain flank,
Dream clouds of whitest sheep for shield of peace,
Resting voices once denied, now rising, released;
Raining upon broken remains… forgotten, seeking,
Aching, waiting in the dust of mundane day.