frefour

Heart Words
Lost Dreams (for William)
I.

In my dream, I carried you - through the streets...
looking for the familiar places that marked
your childhood
my youth.
They were gone -
boarded over.
I was lost.
The day was hot, and you fell asleep -
your toddler's head heavy against my shoulder.

I wandered through the streets,
your breath sweet against my neck
keeping me company.
I, fully responsible to find
food, clothing, shelter.
But nothing was where it should have been.
I was afraid.

Finally, we went home.
How I found home, I'll never know.
It was a strange place -
one I had never seen.
I carried you up flight after flight
of stairs.
When we reached our door,
it was slightly ajar.
I opened it slowly, and looked in.
Found a man I once loved very much
laying on the sofa, watching T.V.

"This is my son", I said,
and set you down.

II.

Struggling to the surface of consciousness,
heart beating fast.
Trying to open my eyes,
get out of the dream.
Working to figure out where I am,
where you are.

I am home.
Youth is gone.
You are growing up.
This boy who stands before me,
tanned and strong -
independent -
his first love blooming in his heart
like a lovely flower
is the same little one I just sat down
only a moment ago.

I can still feel your sweet breath against my neck -
feel the weight of your small body in my arms.
I want to weep for what we've lost;
for what we've gained.

In my dream, I carried you - through the streets...
looking for the familiar places that marked
your childhood
my youth.
They are gone.

©Freedom Heart Rising - 9/21/1996/11:15

God's Child
I woke this morning -
got down on my knees and prayed.
It felt like God was dead,
or perhaps like He'd gone to the Virgin
Islands...summer vacation.
But I needed Him, and told Him so.

Last night, I dreamed that
I was not only a child of God,
but a part of God,
and He a part of me.
I am usually dreaming terrible things -
children being crucified,
and people getting shot in the snow.

So, I awoke encouraged that
I had dreamed such peaceful
beautiful thoughts.
I expected God would be there -
but then found him gone for the morning.
However, I left a message.

He later responded -
through a song by Kris Kristofferson,
and another by Willie Nelson.
Through a quote by Einstein,
and a journal entry of Ellen Gilchrist's.
All of these things made me glad
to be alive!

Now, it is late in the day,
and I am tired.
I need to rest, and breathe!
But now I can do so,
knowing that God is back,
and I am a part of Him.
His Child -
safe and sound.

©Freedom Heart Rising - 8/21/1997

Visitations:
Yesterday, it rained.
I was tired and lonely.
Mist surrounded the trees,
and everything looked empty.

Getting out of the car,
I saw you standing there smiling at me.
I was pleasantly surprised.
I had a bag of books and CD's in my hand
to take back to the library.

I smiled back,
and walked through you.

I could see you in my minds eye so clearly,
that I wanted to weep with the wonder of you,
with the absence of you.
With the pure ache of missing you.
Ah, if I could have made you real.

Later, walking the dog in the back yard,
I looked up
and there you were again.
I wished I could just walk
into your arms.
I needed you to hold me.
It was cold and damp.
My bones ached from that,
and from the need to be touched.

This is one of those times in my life
when music makes me cry, and
beautiful words make me want to
fall to my knees,
and thank my God for
the very existence of them.

It is in this time,
this time of letting go,
that you have appeared -
and disappeared. The mist cleared
and you were gone.

©Freedom Heart Rising - 2/11/1998/10:55 am

Whispering Secrets
In the twilight space
between consciousness and sleep
the woman comes to me -
cups her hand around my ear,
whispers secrets -
wakes me.

I struggle to recall
what she has said.
I know it is important;
can only hear the sound
of wind whispering -
no words.

Closing my eyes once more
against the day,
she comes again -
enters through the same space;
whispers the secrets.
I cannot understand,
but I feel her words in my heart.

They indeed are important.
I slip into sleep,
knowing that she will return,
and that someday
it will all make sense.

©Freedom Heart Rising - 5/14/1998/Birmingham, Alabama)

Untitled (What Kinds of Dreams)
What kinds of dreams
do people who torture children
have?
Are they tormented in
their sleep?
Carried off by avenging angels,
sweating blood,
suffering pain?
Or do they steal the innocent
dreams
they have deprived their victims of?
Do they suffer at all
or do they sleep in peace
and wake well-rested?
Who created these beasts?
The same God who created
new born babes, in all their wonder?
Or was it the people who tortured _them_?
And was this always
their Truth?

What kind of animal
holds captive innocent children -
shackles them in their own
helplessness and need?

I dream of crucified children,
and running through snow.
I dream blood baths.
I dream rape and murder.

What do those people
who made this my life
dream?
Is there justice
for those of us who had
no choice; no childhood -
a life of pain and fear?
Or do these bastards just sleep
the dreams of angels -
and carry on unscathed?

©Freedom Heart Rising - 11/21/97

Call 1-800-THE-LOST if you've seen this child. Click on the image for case details. We support the work of the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.
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Compassion (For the Sisters of Wolf Lodge)
I find myself falling
but don't hit bottom.
I am barely hanging on to
the face of the mountain.
Craggy strongholds -
just enough room for my fingers
to grasp.

Thinking...
this is hard, it hurts, I am tired;
maybe I should just let go.

Looking down,
I see you -
reaching up.
In your silence
is the cry for help.
In your reaching,
my salvation.
I get a better grip -
plant one hand and both feet firmly.

Reaching down to you,
struggling to grasp your reaching hand
without falling myself...
stretching muscles to their limit -
sweating with exertion.
Pieces of rock break loose
and scatter down around us.

I look back up,
get a better hold.
Eyes back down to you...
"C'mon, you can do it!
Take my hand!"
Tears flood your eyes,
as you reach
and our hands connect.

I pull
you climb.
We both hang on.
_We hang on._

Through dirt, sweat and tears,
we smile to one another,
and begin the long climb back up

together.

©Freedom Heart Rising - 1/7/1998/9:45 am

Old Friends
Browsing through the books
in the lobby of Barnes and Noble
I felt eyes upon me.
Looking up,
there she stood
on the inside of the store,
staring at me through the plate-glass window.

I got the feeling she'd been there for awhile.
Our eyes met,
and she smiled faintly,
and shrugged her shoulders.

I shook my head no,
and I left.

©Freedom Heart Rising - 11/2/1997/1:35 pm

B'ham Haiku (for Ja Hae)
Waiting for the tea water -
my knee is painful.
Living just in this moment.

©Freedom Heart Rising - 5/14/1998 (Birmingham, Alabama)

I do hope you enjoyed your visit. Please return here often as I will have many more of my poems and writings to share with you.

Wado, Freedom Heart Rising

ah kwe nuh suh
(My Home)

Last Updated: June 17, 1998
Webmaster: Soft Silver Wolf
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