Sense

l can't seem to make Sense of it all.
So different than I had envisioned. 
Even as a child Even as a teenager. Even as an adult.
Even as old.

Would Sense include Dreams?
Or Wants or Needs or Sperm Whales Sleeping?

Just as I Am, Billy Graham sang.
Just as I am, yes, to the sky and He so open armed, I am, 
but someone else is making more sense?

don't think,
don't act,
don't move,
and fundamentally, finally 
don't talk.

If only I could stop all this thinking, maybe I could stop this telling.
Telling about the house dream and the round love dream.

Quiet isn't MY goal!
Not when I remember the sperm whales video.
Oh, NO.

The Beach

The Beach

I dreamt of the sea

where we used to go.

My father’s house,

Then my mother’s house.

Then someone, I don’t know,

who didn’t tear it down for a mansion.

Could’ve,

with the money it cost at the end of us.

But left it.

I dream often, of the front, long beach.

stretching out so far

into the waves.

It’s warm, the air, the sand, in my dreams.

Even the water.

I swim in the big soft waves, not terrifying,

as they would  really be.

Wonderfully warm and familiar.

I duck so to not be hammered down

to the creamy sand, often looking so innocent, 

not as in a dream reality,

heavy, slamming,

hard as a rock.

Even a tidal wave, a huge dangerous wave,

transparent turquoise and cream foaming,

somehow roars high over the house,

Gently. Then gone, as if not really there.

But I am quietly happy.

To be at the beach

Looking for my mom

Looking out for my dad

My sister beautiful brown and laughing.

My brother kind and surfing.

Then the dream turns to my oldest sibling,
dream ending,

taking care of the lunatic in the house at night in summer with phosphorescence. 

Maybe now the dreams will stop.

But I will miss their gentle warm lacy place.