Talks with Nightmares and Nature

I held your nightmares close

and we became like old friends,

drinking whiskies in rocking chairs

that my grandfather carved

before religion called him out

of the woods and into the concrete, and

we raised our glasses high and wild

whilst you waltzed

through heaven in your underwear

laughing at the people below.

So I took a deep

syncopated breath

to calm down the tide of suicide dreams,

setting the metronome

back to the beginning of time,

soothing flowed through me

as I held my palms skyward

to the moon

and thanked her,

my sacred mistress, who aided me

in remembering,

oh yes,

that part of me is in

the trees outside my house,

in the rain that falls

into the rivers

and flows

to the Ireland waters

from whence my family came.

I am also deep within the 

earthen ground

which heals all wounds

and culture imposed sins and

sighs to the

mourning morn

until laughter

cracks the sky again

like thunder.