On the Dream's Edge

From my throat comes no sound
my legs and feet are tight-bound in stocks,
Dry mouth, on the edge of a dream
I am living the dream, dying to scream 
but my brain says, “No!”

I envision a scary future
on the other side, sutures needed;
Discovery, close enough to touch.
Close enough to touch, to cradle, to clutch
to comfort my racing heart.

Panting, swimming upsteam 
just ankle deep. I’m brimming in water.
Dripping in sweat, I cannot see.
I cannot see because the dream in me
brings tears, tears which come and go.

When I’m finally free,
I trade screams for a plea of relief,
"A dream come true, perfect and fine
Far more than perfect, he’s mine.”
Motherhood is a work of art.

October 8, 2019
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Mcintosh Avatar
October 8, 2019 at 11:51 PM
Motherhood sure is a work of art. Best wishes for the contest. I enjoyed your poem... blessings and love, Gina
Poteet Avatar
October 10, 2019 at 7:07 AM
thanks, Regina...I suspect you've had this same dream. Appreciate your comment.
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