Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor —
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That’s how it is sometimes —
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it.
(Dust by Dorianne Laux)
glimpses and whisperings...
fragments…
a collage of words
with no meaning.
next time i'll open
the window….
4 comments:
That happens a lot to me. Although I believe it is someone I know who has passed. Two times now I have felt someone kiss my face. I wake up but of course there is no one there. It is very real to me. I wish they would let me know who they are. I have a feeling who it could be but I am not positive. It is always something to think about after it happens. I call them "visits"
Happens to me frequently too, Cindee, from as far back as I can remember. Hope you figure out who your visitor is!
I was thinking of you and wondering how you are. You haven't posted in a few weeks. Hope all is well.
Just call me Slacker…Cindee. As I am wont to do….I've been immersed in a self study course and haven't had my nose out of the books lately. Thanks so much for asking….I am indeed well….just a poor excuse of a blogger!
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