REM Sleep II

In the evening white ghosts
race over mountains,
cut the edges off curtains
to make room for remembering.

Was she sleeping when she passed
or was she scared?
In the dark can we forgive?

Silent hills call for the beginning of hope,
the river speaks of loss.
Can we detect frayed memories,
sweep magic under carpets of despair?

Where will she go in the green land?
There are visions, floating revenge,
dreams that fly with kites, clouds and ravens.
Misery swims in the depths of fear,
leaves traces of brutality.

We sculpt air into dreams,
make wishes with flipping pennies.

~

words: Sita Carboni, Canada (Pandora's Collective)
image: Margot Miller, Maryland (Margot Miller)