Box Fan Murmurs

Sleep eludes me

And I begin to

Retrace memories,

Tasting the experiences,

Painting different outcomes,

Waiting for the light of day.

The box fan murmurs,

Playing the soundtrack,

Making melodies

For my mental album.

A 5-year-old shares my pillow.

Arms over my neck,

Legs thrown over me,

Soft snores and mumbles,

And the sweet smell

Of an innocent new life.

Where would I be

Without the presence of

These little ones

Loving me,

Holding me,

Healing me?

I toss every so often

Finding comfort in the now.

I trace over the past

Weaving it to all that is,

All that I’ve become as

The box fan murmurs…

“Let God. Let it go.”

I hear the melodies in the room.

The sounds of ancestral chatter,

Each whispering through

The cycling of the fan.

Life happens in this second,

During sleepless nights

As murmurs echo round and round.

Millie America 5/2022

My sweet baby boy passed out… I wish I was sleeping as peacefully as him.

3 A.M.

moon

I hear heartbeats pounding on the bed,

against the floor,

through a thousand pillows separating

the cold from body warmth.

I hear you dreaming,

completing yet another concrete brick

somewhere in that analytical brain full of puzzles.

I hear the wind shifting,

swirling erratically through leaves, chimes, and

the water hitting the shore against the land.

I hear my brain shifting through consciousness

trying to make sense of things

that at 3 AM I cannot fix.

I hear my cells duplicating, expanding,

moving though the ocean of water inside.

I hear love entering from afar,

snoring in another dimension,

wishing I was there to witness the entrance

to life without judgment before and after birth.

I hear the whispering of the walls,

ancestors from here and there,

the universe, and my guides

while I can’t make sense of the voices

I sit quietly anticipating an answer

to all those things that in waking hours

do not ask questions.

But, through the witching hours

the noises of the galaxies all join forces

in our room…

while all I can do is reach out to you

to find support, grounding, and love.

Tornado

tornado

The night’s silence

was deafening

forcing thoughts to

travel into uncharted

corners of my mind.

I journeyed from here to there,

what if’s, when not, what to, where at,

in a lunatic chaotic frenzy.

The wind picked up slightly

inside,

outside,

and I felt the tornado of emotions

whisking through the body.

This is not me in waking hours;

this is not who I am.

I allowed the rhythmically

loving breath to guide me

into calming waters,

and then just like that…

I was asleep again

in the places where fairies run free.

Superman

The night folds me with its subtleties

while I count your breaths:

up and down,

in and out…

the pain of your scar

crisscrossing the sheets

and vulnerability filled with Kryptonite

magnifying everything that is not.

I need you to heal

completely

allowing the physical you

to override the emotional one.

You are my Superman

and, while I love nursing you,

I need your safe arms of steel

to hold and fold me

as night vanishes into day.

For now I lay my hand

on your chest

rubbing prayers,

silently whispering sweetness to the heavens,

conjuring up a spell

for that very moment,

months from now,

when you can whisk me up

and take me to that place

where dreams reside.