poetry & things

In a dream

In a dream, somewhere in other countries, never mapped

a man was speaking, though I did not understand, there was never any plan

and I listened to the wind and rain upon the trees.

With no church bells to ring, and birds were the chorus

I came upon a silent steeple in the forest, standing on it’s own,

became a wild bird’s home, wrapped in thorny vines

a crown to stain, with berries, bled upon my hands.

Mary was there too, she was looking through

a broken window pane, calling out my name

and too, all the forest called, bathing me in love.

Then with the birds I flew, heavenly into

a deeper dream, til I awoke at dawn,

to fragrant flowers on the lawn

remembering such heaven.

Post navigation
Scroll to top