Dreaming Silences

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Silences beneath
a mass of swirling gray
ensconcing the biting,
soon numb cerebral
dance- -neurons
bursting in slow motion- –
faded memories
of your warmth
manifest still-shot images
borrowed from the silences
of time apart.  Those almost
images- -almost warmth
to tuck into

Wishing beyond
these cold dreams
flowing sideways
from my lips- -syllables,
broken arrows
caught in my throat- –
I need for needs sake
to know- -to feel,
how to feel in the reeling
without your warmth
in which to awaken- -to
wake the silences without
shattering the silence
I crave- -and crave you
screaming in whispers.

“The eye sees a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination awake.”
                                                                                                              Leonardo da Vinci.

Copyright 2011, by Suzie Ashby. 

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Earth Mother’s Child

Mom and a Sis, and Mom.

She was a tear- -a stone,
the sun and moon traversed the sky
to brighten her dreams.
Her dreams glittered star dust.
She had it all- -gave it all
right from the start
– -love in her heart.
She was inspiration,
singer of songs- -weaver
of pallets for sleeping
– -maker of clothing and dolls,
a keeper of the old ways- –
keeper of names and truth,
burning sage- -cleansing soul.
She was a daughter of Earth- –
granddaughter of the moon- –
a sister, wife, mother, grandmother.
Her dreams glittered star dust.
She was a giver- -bringer- –
passer of light- –
flame on a candle
in the darkness burning- –
bright smiles, warmth, compassion.
She was a voice of prayer- –
balance and measure
of night and day.
She knew about loss- -hardship
and how to survive
on love.
She had it all- -gave it all
right from the start
– -love in her heart.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.
Photograph, Collage of Personal Family Photos, Copyright 2010,
by Suzie Ashby.

Word Salad

Neither going, nor coming
is ever easy
though used wisely
shining polished stones
of time are useful
when collecting nuggets
for a box of dreams

coins for spending
on empty days
when creativity
loses its flavor

When drifting aimlessly
through long silences
creates nothing- –
a pocket full of days
tossed recklessly
into my box of dreams- –
for making word salad

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

Up to Chance

I leave it all
up tp chance
as to whether
I create or relate
– -never been able
to do both
concurrently
perhaps I should listen
to more rainbows
and watch colors
of rain dripping
in a bucket of dreams.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

Hearts Dreaming

Southwest of the Bronx
I’ll be waiting
near a stream by a lake
under a tree.
                       Green
the grass beneath me
a pillow of summer
with a blanket
of warm summer breeze.
A picnic- –
man and woman dreams
the sun still shines.
Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.
Photograph Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

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Children of The Setting Sun

            “Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking.”
                                                              Black Elk, Oglala Sioux, 1863-1950.

 

It’s an ancestral rebirth through us- –
children of the setting sun. 
– -Time, a laughter in the night
carries teaching voices in dreams.
Years fly- -laden
with the salt of their tears
– -sweat- -pain- -love,
again- -again time laughs
at the lost, losing what is lost
and our struggle to bring it back.
We wont forget- -despite time,
cannot, will not forget
the telling and retelling of old ways,
ancestral teachings- -stance- -day by day
oral traditions say we can- -we will- –
we are the travelers- -the bringers
and carriers of knowledge.  Still
we hear those days- -ancestral
songs thrum in our hearts- -veins,
heads and hands.  We see
them dance.  Deep in our hearts
we see their shadows working,
playing- -hunting- -living life,
giving life, making life the best way
– -in our deep forest souls, we see.
Our blood is their pulse.
We carry on for them- -have to.
We- -the ancestral vessels
sway their way- -to their beat.
Our souls rise up- -dancing
fingers of mist rising- -rising
from winter’s river- -gently
comes the night mist rising
drifting in time with time- –
through time, all the while
laughing back at it.  Swiftly
running the length of our lives
we grasp their arrows of strength,
baskets of corn- -like robes
for comfort, and berries plump- –
ripe with knowledge
our life’s pledge to complete the circle
on and on- -endless spiral- -life.
We know their fate is not
to be discounted, unattended- –
lost in time, but to be forever
reborn with pride- -through us,
Children of the setting sun.
We carry them full circle- –
each of us, one by one
to a new beginning- –
a spiraling eternal light
silencing the laughter of time.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

 

            “What is gained from our inner nature is exact
               knowledge, which gives us a far-reaching outlook
               Over the earth.  The many powers of inner nature
               are hidden in everyone, and those are identified
               with Wakan-Tanka.”
                                                                Blue Thunder, Teton Sioux.

Bleeding into Dreams

Sunrise glows fire
on the wall
bleeding into dreams
less forsaken
than his heart
he stirs- -stretches- –
groans at the start
of another day- -empty
void of her smile- –
touch as tender
as any unconditional love
could be- -wildflower hair,
sun-kissed skin, soft
eyes devouring his soul,
cotton candy in his mouth- –
her lips tempting, he savored- –
etching indelibly in his memory

A tear catching sun sparks
on his face lures his mind- –
reeling- -alone- -lonely, his body aches
back on the bed her ghost
bleeds into dreams
less forsaken than his heart.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.