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Poem

Healing Dream

Three days before my mother died,
the family on deathwatch,
I had a dream, remembered a song 
I received on a mountain trail. 
It guided me to find the dark tower
defending the foothills where 
the skirmishes happened, to ascend 
a spiral stair where a beacon once burned, 
where a sacred fire was allowed to die,

I stir up the ashes to find a living spark.
Throw open the door of my heart,  
to face my truth, where I am, 
and fall into dream.

This is your task, the song continues,
to go through these agonized meetings 
with the crouching cougar of your mind
on the ladder of the angels to God, 
to climb past mistakes and relationships 
where you hadn’t learned to hold the reins 
on words, actions, feelings.

Now I am able to honor the elders, departing 
and departed. The mountain song carries me 
to take a step beyond my small self to a fullness 
of heart where earthly losses are dissolved. 

I step out in dream world, 
I am astral travelling across treetops, 
a forest dark where campfires of the ancestors 
are burning; I fly to the far side of the river 
of pain that flows through the painting 
that hung in mother’s dining room. 
I am inside it now; like a bird, I swoop, 
and dip above tumbling water, gliding down 
to ocean’s edge where forest turns 
to savannah, and green hills bend to the will 
of waves that give shape to the water’s edge.
My soul sings a song of power as it descends 
from the high hill to the shoreline of a broad sea 
dotted with white sails, boats on brave journeys,
a glimpsed promise, a horizon in the mist.

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