Poems from the past: Responding to dreams

To the old woman in my dreams
June, 1998

Wise old woman
with craggy cheeks
and scarecrow limbs
You have been my quiet strength
my steady honesty
with all your abrupt
honest evaluations
of me
You have been my sanity

You have not bowed to the
pressure from outside
to Conform!
Fit the Mold!
You have stayed real
and strong,
despite my own devaluing
my own distancing
my own terror
of You

It is no wonder
that I do not fear
growing old
You wait for me there
You know
that whatever my life
is like now
then I will wear your face
and will not be afraid
to accept your quiet strength

Wise old woman
I did not recognize this
about You
until now


The Necromancer’s Apprentice
February 27, 2000

“The waters were troubled last night, master,
the images blurred, shot through with curling trails
of venomous black and green.
Why these illusive images, indistinct?”

“Ah, yes, she dreams,
yet she knows not what she dreams.”

“Ah, but master, it is not so
the dreams were lined with memories known,
what good to dredge this feeling from the depths?
What is accomplished? What is gained?”

“What gained? She dreams,
yet she knows not what she dreams.”

“Hasn’t this gone on long enough?
Shouldn’t this odyssey find an end?
The waters were troubled, the images surreal
and can’t be touched or laid to rest.

“The cauldron bubbles and she dreams
yet she knows not what she dreams.”

What good does it do to dredge these poisons
from their depths?
She runs to hide but finds no rest
Within her soul on nights like this.

“There is no rest, she dreams,
yet she knows not what she dreams.”

“Then stir the cauldron, push the paddle
through its depths and stir
stir until the poison dredges out the soul
and let her rest, just let her rest.”

“I show the way when she dreams,
yet she knows not what she dreams.”

Your words are cryptic filled with ambiguity
she seeks rest and peace,
o master, yet you give her
these twisted threads of tangled thought.

Ah, yes, she dreams
yet she know not what she dreams.”

Will it end, master,
will it run its course and find its grave
in life well lived?
When will it end? How will it end?

That we shall see, she dreams,
yet she knows not what she dreams.

So she must hear, must tune her thoughts
accept the dreams. Is that her way,
is that her path to reach an end?
Will she find her way? This I must know!

That we shall see, she dreams,
yet she knows not what she dreams.”

“Tonight I will stand again beside the cauldron
search its depths in aid of her.
She is tired, master, her mind is weary
and needs my help to find her way.”

“As you will, my friend, she dreams,
yet she knows not what she dreams.”

“You smile, dear master, to hear my plan,
Then let the waters be troubled
that I may share this path, this way with her,
and guide her to peace.”

“As you will, my friend, she dreams,
yet she knows not what she dreams.”


Lullaby for an Inner Child
November 7, 2001

I am here now, dear little one
You need not fear
I never will leave you alone
Again here
I will stay here beside you
Until you awake
Then be here o hold you
For both of our sake

I don’t know your story
Or all of your truth
I only know something
Took part of your youth
I still feel the ache
Of your crying in dreams
I still feel the tension
Of your silent screams

Tomorrow is gone, child
We have new todays
We don’t live like then, child
We’re finding new ways
We don’t run from sorrows
We cry real tears
We stay in the moment
There’s room for you here.

It’s been far too long
That you’ve been here alone
Your only companion
The sorrow you own
I didn’t come looking
But love led me here
Now you can let go, child
Someone felt your tear.

So rest lightly, little one
Morning will come
And when you awaken
We’ll go find the sun
We’ll share in the things
You have needed so long
And working together
We’ll help you grow strong.


November 17, 2001

The demons scream within my head
In dream images
Ledgers disguised in human form
They scream unworthiness
Each thing I ever asked a monument
Although only a crumb
Each thing I do
A murder trail
Tried on circumstantial evidence
That finds me guilty

My voice cried out to stop them
To make them see how small the cost
To make them see the crime
Is not as they accuse
But they don’t listen
And their voices have power
To curl me to the floor
A fetal child circled in self
Reaching for the strength
She cannot find

I am undone
And she who watches gives no aid
I do not know why she is there
Is she the judge? The executioner?
The silent witness giving credence
To their cries?
Don’t leave me here alone!
Could you, is there any chance
You just might be here for me?

I wake into the silence
Of an empty room
Frantic for someone to hold
Some voice to still the screaming in my brain
There is no answer from the silent walls
I am alone within this prison
Of my skin
Condemned to silence by the echoes
Of a life once dead


Only a dream?
February 26, 2002

Before my yesterdays
You were
Proud young woman of Africa
Knowing things were not like they should be
For your people
There in your village
Long ago somewhere
I have never been
But I knew you
Your proud eyes not quite dimmed
By the restrictions
Of who you could be
In the society you lived in
Knowing there was something more
But not knowing the way to go
You knew me and I recognized you
Among the faces in that crowded room
And we shared
Experiences lost in the dreamtime
Yet at the end
You were blood to me
Sister in longings shared
I ask you to stay with me
Your eyes were sad as you said no
Your people needed the things you could learn
To help them be free
You had to go back or toward wherever you were aimed
You knew that you were who you needed to be
There in that village
I only saw in dreamtime
Moments of walking your life with you
Although you could not stay
I am glad I got to know you
If only in a dream.


morning ghost
15 November 2008

You haunt me hurling memories
to hide your face I wake
troubled until I remember You
don’t want me to see the pain
You hide I catch each memory
red and sore from too many
years of letting it hurt
I look at it acknowledge
the pain reject
the shame reject the blame
and throw away one more barrier
between You and me I move
one step closer and feel
You quaking step back
give You room
to catch your breath because
I know with each new memory
You hurl at me there is one less
barrier between us and I
am that much closer to
knowing You to set You free
it is too much for me
alone and so I call the One
who teaches me love to stand
with me as I find and free
the part of me holding what You
hold in your little hands curled
protectively in the fortress of
lesser pains that have protected
me from knowing You
from accepting You
for so long.



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