"The page is a road that glows
in the setting light."
Joy Sullivan
Even sitting still, we're travelling:
even in these small cozy rooms, the horizon
draws me ever forward. My dreams,
though I feel as settled as a woodchuck
in this place, are all of searching
for a new home. I avert my eyes
from the message in this dream:
this may be the last home I live in,
so will the address of the next
be other-worldly?
Perhaps each poem
is a small journey
is a small journey
into the unknown.
Where do these words come from,
as I tap the keys?
as I tap the keys?
Always, dreaming,
there is the ocean,
there is the ocean,
and an old house perched
on a hill. Sometimes I return
to the same house, on the same promontory,
and recognize it with delight
as the place I have always
been yearning for.
Once, I dreamed I was moving in
with my mother, who had been dead
for a year. Sometimes, I am reunited
with a lover, only this time, nobody leaves
and there is joy.
Sometimes a weary black wolf
with white whiskers
let's me know
he is still waiting.
with my mother, who had been dead
for a year. Sometimes, I am reunited
with a lover, only this time, nobody leaves
and there is joy.
Sometimes a weary black wolf
with white whiskers
let's me know
he is still waiting.
Even sitting still, we're travelling.
In dreams, sometimes,
perhaps we're
perhaps we're
finally coming home.
I like this thoughtful, reflective poem. Sherry. I do wonder sometimes where our words come from...definitely a journey into the unknown/ or from the unknown as the case may be. It sounds as if you have been doing a lot of "traveling" in your dreams. Some happy moments on one's way "home."
ReplyDeleteOh those dreams come and go, and then there are those dream landscapes or houses the recur and reappear, recognizable even if they are different. My car also lies to me, in a similar way. My body is still yet I end up somewhere else
ReplyDelete-Eric Erb
Where do words and dreams come from... so interesting to think about it... I like the idea of dreaming ourselves home...
ReplyDeleteHomecoming is such a powerful music as the years flee, a blend of first and last and forever memories. The other world is populating with kin and kindred (both our cats are old and fading), waiting for us. Amen.
ReplyDeleteAnother wonderful peom that takes us to many places. My dreams get more vivid as I get older. Many of my newest poems come from these dreams - although these are not yet appearing on my blog. Too personal.
ReplyDeleteI echo Brendan's thoughts. Sometimes I think we are mostly dreaming about where we are really from, which ultimately is where we are heading. Lovely work Sherry.
ReplyDeleteI love the meandering dreamy way you have written this poem. I have heard that dreams of houses are about the self. They can represent aspects of the past and how they have influenced the present. Suzanne.
ReplyDeleteMuch wisdom here, Sherry, and my own thoughts exactly though i have never put them down like you just did. That's the most amazing thing about poetry; it sometimes manages to put another person's soul-truth into tangible form.
ReplyDelete