the stairs are wooden
and old
the bannister
worn free
of its last coat of paint
is now palm smoothed
and supple as skin
it holds my hand
as i climb
to my room
the window
of my room
overlooks a small
whitewashed courtyard
shadows dance
on the bricks
each night
as i sleep
a man
picks me up
and throws me through the floor
the floors beneath
that of
my room
have disappeared
giving my body
egress to leave this world
and enter
the otherworld of the cellar
where i am given
the opportunity
to find my way
without a map
from that crawling and shifting darkness
into the light
each morning
i wake up
glad to be alive
"the happiest little boy i ever knew"
-
carried by darkness.
i met an immense shadow
in a pair of eyes.
tomas tranströmer
3 comments:
An eerie dream, made eerier by the shadows of the music. The darkness of sleep and dream permeates the whole person. I awoke with dread this morning after a dream. Are they real, these memories from within us?
One foot in front of the other, hey?
You do find the most beautiful poetry to give us Steven.
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