EARLY WINTER DREAMS

Moonlight streams through shutter slats
delivering seeds of dreams
harvested by nascent spirits
yearning to be free.

I yield to sleep atop warm blankets
heated by my lazy felines,
conspiring with the otherworld
to seduce me into slumber.

Where do these pictures rise up from
of far’way lands and strange events?
But still a part of who I am
although I may not think so.

Dark words and darker stories strike
when I can least deflect them.
Their echoes during waking hours
can put a heart to test.

Truth and dreams, in early hours
meet to sear into my heart
lessons my mind won’t recognize:
experienced and learned.

PRESENCE

“I was stolen by You from the grave.” – Aaron Strumpel
“Freedom is coming, oh yes, I know.” – South African church song

Shuttered windows,
tightly latched doors
cannot prevent dark clouds
from entering
my room
disturbing
my silence and prayers.

Never alone, I seek
my angel-whisperer
to bring my plea
to heaven’s ears,
“Yahweh, lift this shadowed yoke.”

Sharply, an explosive laugh
starting in my belly spews
forth through my lips
with a dangerous language
to remind me,
cowards sleep an easy peace.