Friday, June 28, 2013


EXCERPTS is a series of poems that I write directly from waking up out of dreams. If I can remember them exactly as they happen, I think there is a reason for that. I know they carry answers for me to things that I am struggling with or need to learn.

I looked down to see my bare feet

climbing the stone stairs.

In the dark, in the deepest part

of a deadly quiet night.

The steps hurt, the surface cold

and hard beneath my tender skin.

I walked through the unlocked door

into the warmth of the vestibule.

There were statues of angels

and windows made of colored glass.

The light from the street lamps

filling the room with a soft blue glow.

Before me stood a large heavy antique wooden door

leading into the sanctuary, the safe haven.

I pushed on the door with all of my weight

and slowly it moved on its hinge.

The room was lit by only one candle

and someone knelt before it, head bowed.

Quietly, I entered so as not to disturb him

and made my way to the alter at the front of the room.

I took a wooden match in one hand

and struck it short and quick against a stone.

The flames hissed as it sent a glow across my face

the scent of sulfur filling up the air.

I laid the match against the wick of a candle

and the two quickly became one single flame.

I blew out the match and laid it back on the alter

and knelt before that flame and clasped my hands.

I let the words begin to fall from my lips

and fall they did until they turned into tears.

Like rivers run and torrential rains fall

they poured from me and filled the space of that room.

My body shook at the force of my pain

strange sounds came up from the depths of my soul.

I let them come, and I let them go

until slowly my breathing resumed its even pace.

I rose slowly, shaken and on unsteady knees

and walked back out of the room.

My prayers left lingering in the silence

as I put my hand on the door.

On the steps outside, I sat down

to listen to the quiet of the night.

He sat down beside me

as I heard the door softly close again.

“I’ve come here to pray,’ I said to him,

“to find the answers I just can’t understand.”

He said, “I heard you, Andrea”

and then I was sitting alone again.


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