In a dream
I saw secrets,
the shadows
that were not
supposed to show.
All the people
became much smaller,
like little lies,
which when they try to escape,
have no place to go.
I saw them in their smallness
and their meanness.
And when I tried to hold them
they begged to be left alone.
As if I had some control.
As if I had some power.
As if I was a Behemoth
with great strength
and vitriol.
But I had none of this
and they unraveled from my grasp
as ones attention unravels
in a dream.
Their disappearance dismissed me
the air filled with the hissing
and spitting of their long litany
of lies
as they scurried off like rats
into the darker corners
of my mind.
Sitting up now gives me
new perspective.
Sitting up brings in new light.
As does
rubbing out the seeds of their
dark magic from within
the corners of my eyes.
(A dream poem which came to me later on in the morning...
during second sleep. I want to remember this, so I wrote it
down for the remembering.)
legal copyright for this poem 3/21/2019 6:27AM PST time/date stamped
and also for this writer/author/poet Melissa A. Howells and also for
this legally copyrighted site title: Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
