with instinctive eye she finds the hollow of the tree, a place in magic steeped; and with reach of heart she lifts out the stuff of sleepy dreams - a rainbow-riding unicorn, an elven-speaking gnome, an angel in a hurricane. each speaks to her in tone, and though each is but a wisp of what she’s dreamed and wished, yet each is emblemic, wholly authentic, in thought is cathartic and in mem’ry angelic. for written words are the whispers that speak in the dark; and poetry the blade that tears open the heart; but dreams... these come from places held deeply within, from childhood fantasy blended with memory; these are hope’s grief, tomorrow’s pain, for answers through loss, her innermost cry; her soul searching again, for it is she that we hear weeping at night.
~
*post script.
blended thoughts inspired by two grieving mothers - one’s post of a tree hollow discovered and another's weeping as she packs up Christmas, while listening to her lost son’s music.
wishing them each peace, answers that satisfy and... sleep.