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.

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