Dreams of Sleep – “Molon Labe!’

hand grasping veil-morguefile191

I walked a living dream,
All swirling mist and light,
Waited for sleep to come,
Hidden from me that night.

I tossed and turned,
Rolled the urn,
Drank coffee by the gallon.

Made late night toast,
Picked the roast,
Then cut away the talon.

When daylight broke,
Through wisps of smoke,
My eyes had hardly closed.

Broke I lay,
For another day,
Open and exposed.

I didn’t care,
I’d paid the fare
Down the road of plain bizarre,

Where lightning flies
And fireworks die,
Stronger by the hour.

I made my bed,
Laid down my head,
Not caring what could come,

When from the dark,
A hand reached stark
And naked to the sun.

It frightened me,
Was strange to see,
A body part dismembered.

A memory,
A sleeping me,
I suddenly remembered.

My cot so small,
My baby’s call,
Veils whipped sharp asunder.

Shadow leaning,
Hand now reaching,
Feeling ’round and under.

It pulled me up,
Shook me hard,
Scared me with it’s noise.

Silhouetted,
Pirouetted,
No pause, no grace, no poise.

Then, suddenly,
It laid me back,
On pillow, foam and cot.

I twisted, turned,
Tried to see,
What sleepy eyes could not.

The stuff of nightmares
Came to me,
When I was but a babe.

Still it haunts
My waking dreams,
Each cry a ‘molon labe!’.

****

 © Copyright January 2015 – Robin McShane
Rights reserved as per this blog’s copyright statement

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