Ofernyc’s Weblog

Deep and Ancient

My dreams have been materializing lately,
slowly yet steadily
growing arms and legs
like a set of brooms carrying water
from a deep well—

Last night I was parachute-gliding
with my mother
over an ocean.       She
was afraid to soar high
failing to use the hot air beneath.
Wind carried me over a vast field
my mother kept shouting
stay away from the road—
the sight of her helpless on the ground
made electric cables rise before me,
my chute, aching for them, collapsed in their arms.

This morning my left shoulder hurt, and my right wrist felt soar.

There must be a deeper inner guide,
who’s survived lifetimes and eons, maybe even
in Egypt or ancient Rome,
and now I wonder about my beloved,
and how we came together—
both carrying childhood confusions,
left handed turned into righties by mothers
who forced a better life—
and where have we met before?

I can see the Nile’s bank—
we are both wearing robes,
you carry a clay jug of water with such willowy grace
I fall in love.    I don’t know
if my father could offer two sheep for your hand,
or we love in narrow allies between houses of mud
under moonlit skies.

I wish I was famous once, I wish
it made my life more fulfilling.
Don’t get me wrong, life in Brooklyn is fine—
dreaming at night keeps me going for days, but
I would have liked to have led a rebelion,
or be the best ship-maker in Rome,
to have an hour each night to study the stars
through a telescope,
seeing bright nameless things
and the darkness between them—
how they glow unknowing
to whom they light the way.