But my eyes open and here I am, awake inside your sleeping mind. You must have conjured me because I would never haunt you. I promised.
Inside your dreams, your heart betrays you while your ego rests,
secretly calling my spirit to come to you with its
magic unharnessed, set free by mysterious truth.
Here, you kiss me long and deep like a man who has crawled across
the desert and finds cool water. You gulp me down with a feverish thirst,
drinking me in haste, lest your sentinels discover and end the dream. I feel the intensity of your sadness and desire to hold me here forever, hiding from the intelligence that gives you so many reasons not to hold me.
I lost my husband to suicide in June of 2006. This is my journey through the deep valley of grief with all its anger, denial, guilt, and pain.
It is also my struggle to embrace the future and allow myself to live and love happily, again.
As if that is not enough, this is where I indulge my need to create, with words, the ideas that irritate me like a splinter, until I get them out.