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Dreams Calling Out

I’ve often wondered if my non-verbal
cerebral palsied son
dreams in colors
and/or words
he can hear clearly
but cannot himself see or say,
at least not clearly articulate.

Yet any sounds and gentle touch
we appreciate perhaps too dearly
if that is possible with D,
my wounded son.

So, I was surprised,
after twenty years of delighted wonder,
and awed last new moon night
when he shouted “Hey!” into my ear,
about one inch from his mouth
in that time of darkest sight

While I had been dreaming of stepping out
where full moon’s light
brights a mysterious pilgrimage into mysterious,
perhaps even mischievous, adventure.

My heart sparked
as D shouted Hey! miraculously
just as I was greeting moon light
splayed across our front porch,
intending to leave D behind
to walk out into Earth’s bright staged sights
while leaving him to rest in peace.

My eyes popped open.

While D slept peacefully on,
without triumphant smile or despondent frown,
although perhaps just a hint
of his mischievous shy dimple, down
toward the front of his right cheek
curling open to grace me
with a loopy grateful grin
shallow but neatly round.

Say Hey! together
calling out this night’s pilgrimage spell
swelling day’s scavenging bright
un-voiced adventures
in listening well.

Calling out
to both Sun and Rain
to thank these for their presence
and remind them of covenants
to remain in perpetual organic balance,
co-present presence,
not too hot and ultra-violet,
not too wet
and green moldy degenerate.

Calling out
in dreams of healthy new moons
and wealthy fullness, shout
resting in Advent’s
adventurous
adventuring
peaceful outback pilgrimage
into boundaries of minds
in dreaming bodies.

 

 

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