Here's a free-style poem that came from a dream. I worked with the pine trees that appeared to me. I allowed a story to come up as I worked with poetic imagery and by the end of the poem I realized something else was coming forward – the person who stepped over the threshold. Sometimes in dream images there are stories behind stories, other meanings behind what we think is the correct interpretation. Poetry helps me get out of my analytic mind and into a wholistic experience of mind, body, spirit.
This poem came from a dream.
New Moon
In darkened twilight hours
the new moon
hints of change. Asleep I
shiver with her.
Dreams evoke Sanger’s
fence and gnarly pine trees
broken. Brown cones once wrapped
in green needles gone.
Ancient burly limbs of this
constant musky friend firmly
embraced my younger self. I
climbed, we sat in sync.
Yet, on those branches
sticky amber sap oozes
signs of life still. A
talisman of age-old presence.
A gate opens in the tatty
dream fence. There. In the dawning
a threshold. Awake I
glimmer and step through.
The poem below emerged from the first one above.
SHE WHO STEPS THROUGH
Thick threads of gray and
white brush her face aglow
with wrinkles of
knowing.
Her eyes glimmer. A
seer’s intensity, at
once composed
and observant.
Talisman of age-old
presence she stands
like the sacred grove,
envisioning what’s hidden.
A soothing smile wrapped
sensuously in moist pink lips.
Soft wizened hands
unfurl, open to the wind.
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