Last night I had a dream I flew
A flying fish, I leapt from fountains,
from sacred pools long and blue.
I Dreamt I hung, then plunged as from a mountain.
From somewhere there was singing.
From somewhere there were birds.
From somewhere there was ringing.
From somewhere a flight of words.
And then the women came in numbers great.
Not soldiers, swinging legs with weighted feet,
but neighbors after fear, startled awake
saying: It’s over now, and do you have a drum to beat?
And do you have a dance?
Give me, give me your broken hands.
Photo by Levi Guzman on Unsplash
