Soft shivers of sound creep into my sleep,
burrowing their way in and joining my thoughts
as a kaleidoscope of colors swirl into dreams
awakening my soul and playing with my mind.

Whispers from voices of a long ago past,
sing to me a sweet litany of cradlesong.
Clear and pure, the music surrounds me
and the dreams take me off to a land so kind.

Warmth of oblivion cradles me as I walk
through a forest glen of springtime newness.
Peace and tranquility abound as I converse
with another who is myself as a child.
We spend much time in quiet recollections
of our life’s trials and lessons learned,
and when she quietly turns to leave my side,
her eyes meet mine, meek and mild.

Summer comes and the air of the glen
surrounds me in a cloak of warm comfort.
The woodsy smell of fresh trodden earth
brings memories of another cherished one
and my grandmother comes to walk with me
in this forestland my mind has made.
We talk; we kiss, then share our hearts
till she too must leave, her visit done.

Shivers dance across my skin, reviving me,
as crisp and sharp the breeze in the glen,
reminds me of the fall of the year
and brings another to visit with me.
A spirit of such quiet splendor and tranquility
my soul is quieted of harsh thoughts and pain
until He touches me and asks me to come,
to listen, but I don’t want to hear His words.

In desperate anguish, I push Him away
and plead with him to let me stay
for I am not ready to follow him
to wherever He wishes me to go.
I have some work to finish yet, people to help,
and I ask if I can but stay a while more.
It saddens Him, but He nods and leaves
and then my tears begin to flow.

Winter nothingness, stark and cold,
fills my mind and the trees of the glen are laid bare.
Life is still, no sound, no warmth,
emptiness abounds within the whole of me.
I awake with a cry and a tear on my cheek
and feel the void where once I felt
the hand of God, now torn from my inner self
and I am cold, and tired, and empty.

© November 2001 Brenda “Rion” Sewell