Brave in Dream

She does not ask him to join her in these
quiet adventures… a walk in the woods,
playing with the dog, swinging on the porch.

However, she imagines him reaching
for her hand, bending down to kiss her cheek
and whispering I love you in the dark.

She is brave in her dreams, where he lingers
and holds her close to his chest, wanting her
even as he drifts off to sleep and snores.

Throughout the seasonal change, she pictures
herself curled on the couch, reading books,
watching movies, sensing his presence…yet
she can’t bring herself to invite him in –
fear of refusal holds her dreams at bay .

~
Siobhan
3/31/13

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Her Past

Her past sits firmly behind her; it is
untouchable and irrefutable
– it exists. She doesn’t care for any
one or you to push her backward to pain,
momentary elation, or the good
feelings that have gone before. They survive
persist in her memories, they are not
yours to deceive her with or blame her for
remembering – fondly or otherwise.
She holds them close, yet does not live in them.

Each word, every image, tells her story;
she has learned and grown strong with each lesson.
Mistakes made, forgotten then repeated,
are hers – only she can change her future.

~
Siobhan
5/20/12


With the Moon

Her mind does not quiet down until late
in the evening when, wrapped in the darkness,
she allows the daylight to disappear,
leave her alone with imagination.

From the corners, shadow invades her space
bringing with it memories and quiet
contemplation of what is missing now
as opposed to what was missing back then.

Reminded of shared dreams and desires
faded, devotion that waned with the moon,
her search for passion is strengthened. She is
alive deep within, ready for release.

A whisper from the fan caresses her;
swallowed by sensation, she sleeps at last.
~
Siobhan
06/24/11


The Value of Memories

Breeze sifts through open windows, stirs the curtains.
Scents hidden in the folds of memory
fill the space, push against it, invade.

An image of what once was finds it way
out of that place holding all her secrets,
exposes lost dreams and forgotten hopes.

Of all she values, it is those she holds
within her darkest desire that she relives.

She recalls the lingering sensations …
a trail of fingertips across belly and breasts;
the scratch of nails along her spine.

She no longer lies to herself – or others –
memories are to be cherished
for what they gave us – what they give us.

~
Siobhan
5-16-11


In This Dream

Electricity gathers about her;
snakes up calves, slides between thighs, igniting
a fire beyond her control; white heat.
She senses the downpour churning beneath
the surface; her body begs for release.

Untangling from sticky sheets, she walks out
to greet the storm on her own terms – naked
in the midnight hour, she stands ready
to receive this fury, this force, passion
held in check for too long. Lightning flashes

capture her silhouette against the dark;
the hot-meets-cold wind wraps his arms around,
pulls her close, gently caresses pale flesh.
She has found home once again in this dream.

Siobhan
6/20/10


An Invitation
 
Fresh air through open windows brings sleep in
to stir restless dreams around inside her.
Tangled in bed sheets, she crosses the line
between worlds and finds herself alone.
 
Wandering in the ruins of what was,
she looks around for hope and life, finding
both within her grasp – fresh blossoms ready
for the picking. Spring offers its promise.
 
Cliché catches her in a smile, waits
for the chuckle to bubble and burst
before reminding her the truth doesn’t
always have to hurt; sometimes it’s a salve.
 
Early morning sounds whisper across her;
life’s invitation graces the doorstep.
 
 

Siobhan
4/2/10


No Comment
 
Words pierce her dreams, invade that quiet time
when the body should be asleep, at rest.
They poke at the subconscious mind, test her
power to remain silent – no comment.
She’s stuck in iambic pentameter;
thoughts ramble, turn into unrhymed sonnets.
 
Responses to couplets, silly little
poems run through her mind when she’s awake.
None of the words capture the sense of loss
she is unable to shake; it clings still.
Persistence moves her – not desperation.
Powers, stronger than her own, are at work.
 
Anything is possible becomes her
mantra, her prayer to just let life happen.
 
Siobhan
1/4/10