Below the Oaks

April will come again, but for now… A dream I recently had involving my little sister:

Below the oaks and

        the maples and swirling

                ‘round the passive blades

 

The little girl’s limbs

        push out against them.

                The forces which bear

 

Down to crack the silence

        of a backyard game.

                A clamoring evil,

 

The same that has haunted

        me, your older brother.

                Chased me up the stairs

 

Fear coming quickly without

        eyes in the back of

                my head. It is reeling

 

In the dark dank sky,

        threatening my

                Claustrophobia.

 

We wave arms against the power

        of air which is soaked

                in the voices of dark lies.

 

It is she, the same devil

        that whispered in my

                ears as I had slept,

 

Terminating my expectation

        of tomorrow’s edge

                pushing over the wrinkles

 

Of my subconscious signals.

        This is the storm that

                comes when we forget

 

which way is up,

        and cease to remember

                that the west is bigger than she.

 

 

 

 

I am here asleep once more,

        and now she is your haunting,

                and she drinks your calls.

 

Which mix in under the whirls.

        The dank, dangerous

                whirls, and your eyes,

 

Your eyes you share with me,

        given to us to know

                that we do not fear alone,

 

Those bright blues are tremoring.

        Tremoring, and we pray

                Hallowed be thy name

 

May kingdom come

        in this same backyard

                we chased the pups in.

 

And a flick of red

        in that bubblegum tree

                the squirrels find dinner in,

       

Sings an answer.

        Blue meets blue, my sister,

                and a single outstretched finger

 

Invites the whirlwind to rest,

        to settle into those passive

                blades of soft lawn.

 

This can’t go on forever,

        these demons that chase us.

                The cardinal knows,

 

And now you do too.

        Blue meets blue, my sister

                And it finds his perch

 

Flicks down to land

        On the branch it belongs to

                You’ve always known him,

 

He’s always known you.

        It is better then.

                It is better than all we’ll ever know

 

Sing to me you

        Flick of red, you king

                Of song, you dash of hope. 

 

You cardinal here

        Once then gone

                Below the oaks

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