words

floating freely in the non-light
weightless, fleshless, no place to hold
what I believe to be my self

only tendrils of color mimicking landscapes
in alternating instants of false clarity

I begin to see a woman flailing her arms
jerking back and forth in the vacuum
of godless space

a screaming mother wrenching
loose from the moorings of paradise
blood seeping, solid amethyst beads
a color more like poison
peppering her filthy rags

or crashing in deliberately chiseled waves
pouring from her exposed chest cavity
as the dream itself recombines

it is my mother, and her arms
have been robbed of strength
gravity, love, tenderness
they are just blades of grass
in an aimless, violent wind

the blending landscapes in my mind
fail me miserably, but their scope
is more than I can perceive, as when

I wake
to see her
jerking back and forth in her chair
arms flailing
her hair matted and coiled
and I reach out to her
and I am not recognized
so much as acknowledged
a fellow
wandering a shimmering horizon
searching for the right words
that will sort everything out
once and for all