Dream Pastiche by Cara Scott Hancox

Last night I dreamed

 it was early morning

I lay cocooned

 bound by invisible silk threads

spun gossamer light

Old clothes, ripe with mould

gently assaulted my sensibilities

from under the veil of army issue


Relics greeted me

as old friends

whom I lovingly raised

 and resurrected

like flags in ceremony


Soon after

as morning crept in

an orange and dappled dawn

encircled my camp

I looked to my father

who stood tall as a tree

whispering to me unsung lullabies

carried off into the wind

around my fragile memories



My gypsy family and I

lay sheltered together

 under a flapping khaki roof

where I dug through the ruins of my past

With ripened awareness

I dream-watched

my state-of-grace blossom

filling my inner-landscape

until small shoots of tenderness

 sprouted around me

and I remained there, surrounded

I commandeered a reunion

from this safe place

and cleared a path

from the brittle underbrush of my past

creating space for stagnant sorrow

to escape


Here, with silent awareness

I ever so gently

brought back images and songs of love

I’d lost and quietly remembered

the others I longed to hear


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