Kindly watch your step
In this room
They are everywhere
You must walk confidently, shoulders back,
like you belong in this dark night world –
because then maybe they will believe that you do.
But I know, I know,
as I step out into the dark,
with its dampened sounds and slick sidewalks,
that this is where I belong.
The wind is at my back;
the rain doesn’t seem to touch me.
Invincible is the word racing through my mind,
rushing through my body
as if it’s an element infused in my blood.
But that thought always comes before the fall, does it not?
That belief that nothing can harm you,
that your skin, your mind, your soul,
is impervious to all harm . . .
I suppose I will find out when the sun returns;
but for now, I will remain in the dark –
a creature of the night.
The breeze is all around me
enveloping me with a soft whisper
The branches of the sugar maple
sway back and forth
revealing their fuzzy green undersides
feathery and delicate
like the flower buds of early spring
and petals floating through the air
It isn’t warm yet isn’t cold
and be silent
Grasses wave gently
in the cool breeze
rocking back and forth,
back and forth
a sweet lullaby
The air is mingled with mockingbird calls
their melodious voices in rhythm
with the breeze
It comes in gusts
although not forceful
Do not disturb the calm
of the breeze.
-Marie Walters (June 2018)
I dreamt I was in a forest
Surrounded by shadows of clinking tree branches
In the pitch-black night
The cool white moonlight
Around my pale reflection
In a dried-up stream bank
I dreamt I heard noises
I whip around
And yet when there was really something there
I failed to notice.
I dreamt and feared the endless emptiness
In the misty woods
And my surrounded isolation
But I settled into the warm ground
Dead leaves, moss, and brush
And I fell asleep, shivering, in the freezing air
I dreamt I then woke
To a coyote curled next to me in the leaves
And above me a mouse that barked
I dreamt this was not a dream
I dreamt that this dream I dreamt was real
I dreamt I dozed off again to dream on the forest floor
And when I woke up
I was alone.
-Marie Walters (May 2018)
wet tinted goggles give the moon a fractured halo
of faint chaotic cobwebs spinning white and gold
the water is full of dancing flashing shadows
faint songs drift over from the carnival next door
the soft smooth darkness blurs the leaves
that whisper through the windlessness
you drip on the deck in the empty air
in a clammy towel, water slips down your spine
around the porch light doomed moths spiral
their quiet wings flash across your eyes
and fireflies surprise you in the night.