Dreamed I miscarried but not a baby,
a life - set out so strongly on the journey
only to side-step and dance with
crazies I expected to know how to love.
Talents were available - music, writing,
faces that could make a theatre weep
or laugh. I shunned them for motherhood,
servitude to a husband focused on
big breasts (mine were tea cup size)
and blonde hair.
When I decided that sleep was
preferable to waking up to face
another morning, no one hauled me off
to a hospital, they whispered behind
the door and waited, as if I were my own
Years later, they are gone, I am still here.
I tend to blanket myself in a fetal pose
when stressed but the dreams that come
are bright with hope, music and a beat
only I can dance to.
When I wake, I am the brightness
on a dark day, I am the dream.
I am even my own applause and I am happy now.