I climb through dense brambles to hide.
Light flickers to find me,
I don’t feel safe here, and run on.
I’m in a dark house and move back and back through the rooms.
I hear him asking someone if they had seen me.
I curl up tighter into my hidden place under old clothes.
I feel him closer.
I don’t see him.
I run again and find a disconnected darkness.
As I cover myself with leaves,
It all begins to fade,
The darkness, the details, the uneasiness;
I awake, and sit up clearing the cobwebs of the dream out of my sleep.
I reach out for my husband.
He raises to his elbow and touches me.
His sleepy voice says, “Oh good, you’re here —
I’ve been chasing after you,
And no one would tell me where you were.”
Copyright © Judith Angell Meyer