Awakening Dream


Have slumbered. Slept
through many moments
of existence. Pulled
night’s sheep-lined
cover over shoulders,
while hiding beneath
boulders of only
half-wakened dreams.
Drawn do-not-disturb
drapes across drooping
eyelids while learning
language of signs
and symbols.

Forced fingers to bend
round smoothness of pen,
hesitant to shape breath
to sounds heard only
at inner ear, whispered
words that tickled
tender membrane,
gathered images dance
now, even in daylight.

Have discovered
that waking is hard
work, but going unheard
can be fatal
to that heart
which has taught itself
how to listen.

Elizabeth Crawford  5/12/09


About 1sojournal

Loves words and language. Dances on paper to her own inner music. Loves to share and keeps several blogs to facilitate that. They can be found here:
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