*An older poem from a time when life was simpler but seemed more complicated. Perhaps worthy of a re-write?

She woke in a cloud of sheets that settled back to the bed
as she sank back to the pillows with the dream filling her head.
The minute her eyes could focus, her arms flung open wide
as tears slid down her cheeks and she breathed a sobbing sigh.
There in her island of blankets, before she gained control,
her throat rasped with whimpering tears that caught in a lonely bowl.
Too late her brain responded, regained complete control:
It cut off the scalding tears, and emptied out the bowl.
She sank into exhausted sleep, and gratefully she went,
and while she stayed, her brain remained, and stopped up every vent.
The dream had faded by the dawn, the terror eased as well;
there was little sign on fearing tears, as far as she could tell.
To look would be to see the pain in her sleepy eyes,
so rapidly she hurried away and put on her disguise.
She did this every morning, begging not to think,
and every morning, not a tear would escape into the sink.
But night forever repeated the dream – all basically the same.
Every night, she’d start awake, then cry till logic came.
Remembering her lovely past could not help her now.
She laid aside her hardened soul, which kindly took a bow.
Yet in the middle of her aching, in the middle of the day,
a hand reached out towards her and pushed her mask away.
He gazed so long into her eyes, she trembled, was afraid;
and when he finally carried on, she stayed at home for days.
Staring hard into the mirror, ignoring her pounding heart,
she faced the alien in her eyes and felt the healing start.
When out among the other, she felt him take her hand,
she looked into his face and looked through to a land.
As she did, in cautious awe, he gazed into her eyes.
He told her he could love her, and held her as she cried.
She danced her way to home again and stepped into her tub.
The water beat down, and floated around, and killed the withering shrub.
Aware she was now free and loved, she relaxed into bliss,
she turned her face up to the water as if waiting for a kiss.


2 comments on “Accepted

  1. the perfect post. Just like what you said. I have nothing to add. I’d like to elaborate a bit. This post is so well written it’s almost perfection itself. I feel that if a leave a comment it will stain the carpet and mess the overall grandeur of the blog. I beat a hasty retreat. But I come again to check how the author responds to commenters.

  2. Thank you. πŸ™‚ It says exactly what I wanted it to, but I’m always a little uncertain on this one…when I try to read it to myself (objectively) or to other people, it seems less clear. There’s a line between letting a poem speak for itself to each reader and just being confusing for the sake of being artistic. This one flowed naturally when I wrote it and received very little editing, so thank you for the feedback. Much appreciated. πŸ™‚

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