Dreaming
DREAMING
It is said that part of the self leaves the body when we sleep
Rides the red stallion of wild and unfettered dreams;
A turquoise cross, Celtic in style, calmly
Hangs on a brass hook above the bed
Pleading with the Gods on my behalf,
Offering up a prayer for mercy
That I may be lifted from this mire of corruption.
An oil slick drifting in, leaking
Onto the long white sands of my life.
Praying that I may travel well
Into the land where dreams are made,
Where the voices of ancestors
Can clearly be heard,
Where dolphins sing to Cuthbert
Standing on the shore.
A place where every thing is made possible
As the hooves of the stallion
Kick up a storm of white sand.
© Simone Silver Path.