Dreamshore

I washed up onto consciousness

after a stormy night.

Debris lay strewn across the shore,

shards of horror and fright.

I picked my way gingerly –

if I touched one I would scream –

and vowed to never again succumb

to either sleep or dream.

But then I found a dreamshell –

a fragment, shining still –

the memory of a blissful scene

shattered, yet serene.

So now, when night next hovers near

I undress myself of fear

and leave my life in its darkened den

to go plunge in again.


Published 1993, Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum. All rights reserved.

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