Fever Dreams

December 15, 2009
By , Brooklyn, NY
Pain spills and flows from the wound torn in my chest. In the midst of freezing darkness, it dissolves those thoughts that connect overlapping wounds.

In a nightmare, in fever dreams from which I cannot wake, even a siren’s voice falls like raucous noise upon my ears. Like the spilling, flowing sand from a broken hourglass, I scatter my whispered wish across the cold, cold stars.

Standing in the frosty light, tears that won’t dry stain my face like comet-trails of blood. Prayers pierce through the crevices between my outstretched fingers, and I reach towards the frozen sky, dreaming of crimson wings. How much boundless pain exists in this world?

With wings of forgotten dreams, longing for a world in which I’ll be reborn, I search for the unfailing miracle that dwells in every person’s heart. Show me how strong I can be; take my hands, gently, pulling me up through the cold darkness and into the brilliant light.

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