Evening Poetry, December 14

Where Dreams Meet Daily Life

by Freya Manfred

Sometimes I’m harsh with my family.

Beneath my harshness lie my tears.

Beneath my tears a woman filled with dreams,

who gave birth to words and children and gardens.

But now my children walk the earth

with bones that have finished growing,

and my husband read the newspaper until I speak,

then answers and calls it love.

My words seem irrevelant, like my dreams,

crowded with strangers at loud parties

where I can’t find anything to drink.

Did my dreams ripen because my rich life fed them?

Or did my hungry dreams feed my life?

The place where dreams meet daily life

must be blessed by what is unknown.

We move as a spirit flies, or as underground

water flows, the way stones still breathe

with the spirit that gave them birth.

You can find this poem in Swimming With a Hundred Year Old Snapping Turtle.

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