Don Pearson's 'Dreaming' 🌙: A Night of Poignant Beauty and Broken Memories

My dream had beauty. <br />Black pooled light <br />on rainswept streets, <br />blood on the walls <br />of the houses <br />that are no longer homes, <br />disgorged, broken lives <br />crying at the sun, <br />hidden somewhere <br />behind the storm clouds. <br />There is a smell of death <br />in this town, <br />a knife discarded <br />on the roadside, <br />vomit on the beach, <br />empty premises <br />left inside <br />those who once <br />also dreamed <br />of redemption. <br /> <br />I had a nightmare. <br />There was a light <br />in my eyes <br />of hope, <br />a future of flowers <br />and fruiting vines. <br />Love conquers all, <br />the brave Shiva, <br />green shoots, <br />waving in the warm breeze <br />amidst the burnt grasses. <br />When I awoke <br />the fire still thrilled me. <br />Then reality <br />streamed in <br />with the morning and <br />spat out its teeth. <br /> <br />I cannot dream now. <br />My sleep is dark, <br />dark as my wake. <br />Any light I see <br />is through frayed edges <br />in a black curtain, <br />hiding other shades, <br />that are blinded by <br />the falling ash, <br />dessicate, torn, <br />betrayed by faith, <br />by hope, by love, <br />beyond all trust. <br /> <br /> <br />(30th Sep 2001)<br /><br />Don Pearson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dreaming-34/