The way the rafters shook
slow- motion-like with little
bits of caulk snowing down,
weightless, strange, no?
For it was stone and fell
without sound. I held
on to you, held on as walls
caved, dust rose, your
breathing steady, and mine
too, come to think of it.
It all comes back as if
I were watching from above.
My body was a blanket,
my arms were anchors
unmoving there as our
world fell around us.
We were placid as swaddled
babes.
I see the warning
in the dream, sense all
is not well.
We awaken to dangers of
sleep amidst strife
yet somehow remain un-roused,
unheard.
The dream repeats.
Again. Again.
The questions linger:
which morning birds still mask
a rumbling thunder?
What forces of gravity will break
the veil
restore our strength,
our will to move,
our infant cries
release our voices
rising?
Calpurnia (Caesar’s 4th wife—had a prophetic dream the night before her husband’s murder…in it, the roof of the house fell in — she held her husband in her arms as he was stabbed—upon waking, she begged him to stay home but he ignored her warning.)
“cold sleep” to undergo suspended animation for a period of time; (transitive) (rare) to put a person into cold sleep n.
Early Morning Poems 