To dry my wet hair I move to a sunny spot on the bank.  I can hear my breath, the tear of my heart.  Sleek ripples of waves roll over gnarled roots of giant cypress to separate around stacks of   ancient stone,  old soldiers guarding  a sacred place.  Looking up,  clouds of words move closer. They say what I don’t want to know  and then  fade into antiquity.  I am grateful for lodestone laps  of water that pull back sad memories and choke them beneath the  silt.  At dusk I catch sight of a Tawny Owl  eyeing me from behind a veil of Spanish moss.  The seasonal birds  have departed like dream-dead children.   I  stay with him  until  tokens of night appear, the fading sun sinking below the horizon, distant deer vanishing in  the  haze, until the river disappears in  fog.

 

 

 Bird life International

 

58 thoughts on “Dreamers

  1. You took me to that place as you watched the owl Holly..
    ” I am grateful for lodestone laps of water that pull back sad memories and choke them beneath the silt. ”
    A deep lament as one is still within their thoughts, as we dreamers dare to dream, and hold so much inside..
    ❤ Beautifully written Holly.. ❤

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    1. Thank you for the lovely comment Sue. As I wrote this my thoughts were on the young immigrants brought as children and now being threatened with deportation unless we fund his “wall” to appease his followers.

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      1. Dreadful.. The world is being exposed for what it is right now Holly.. Hang onto those Dreams my friend.. For there are many Dreamers whose thoughts will have a profound effect.. We may not realise it at the moment.. But hang in there and Holly.. xxx

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  2. “Looking up, clouds of words move closer. They say what I don’t want to know and then fade into antiquity” is such a beautiful image. Plus, the ending is eloquent.. leaves us longing for something that is probably already gone. Great writing, dear Holly. Hugs 🙂 ❤

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