At the Edge of a Dreamscape - Rod MacIver

In the middle of the night
On the edges of my dreamscape
Caribou race along the rim of distant hills
And disappear.

They offer no words
But somehow they say
In vague, shifting images of blue
Moonlight and pounding hooves
Stand still.  Wait for once.
Don't race over there
And stand in the middle.

Let chaos go its own way
Confused, discordant.
Keep your internal center of balance
A compass on the bridge of a storm-tossed ship.
What is the destination?
Where do we want to go?
I wish I knew.

In the darkness
just past the light of the campfire
In the wild, nocturnal mystery
Sounds coming at you from the night
Footsteps
Breathing,
the sound of some big animal breathing

Go.
You won't create your new tomorrow
Hanging around the fire, waiting
Waiting for tomorrow
Staring at flames that become embers
That become darkness
Embrace the darkness now.

So a road opened up
And I took it.
Down some dark stairways into myself
In search of the sun.
What was supposed to happen didn't,
And wasn't supposed to, did.

I don't know what is going on.
I don't know how things are supposed to be.

Rod MacIver

from the book arts collection,
The Journey Itself is Home
Heron Dance

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

The "Caregiver"...

I have to find a way through this...

I am missing quiet times in the Silence;
- writing; poems, if they arise;
and emails to friends; or chapters 
for future books - never to be published -
ghost stories
about a life unlived...

I am missing the life I had -
or rather - the rhythm with the Life I lived:
quiet, slow, restful - a contemplative's elder years;
that allowed me to spontaneously express from the deeper,
quieter space of Being - now frozen in an emotionally
draining time-bound reality,
that at times feels unreal, unfamiliar.

I got caught in a time warp somewhere
by someone else's dreamscape...

I am paralyzed, unexpressive in many ways,
flatlined by my life experience;
choked on life's challenges big enough to kill one's spirit;
trying to be kind, compassionate and caring,
and somehow magically pulling it off,
with a little humor at times,
while my own life slowly wanes into non-existence.

I need my Life back - although it will never be the same
again...  The Life energy drains from the body - physically
flattened and barely functioning, becoming mechanical,
trying to hold onto my Heart,
through barrages of blame,
and arrows of long held hatred
from a troubled soul...

I have to find myself again -
before it's too late...

Mystic Meandering
Nov. 4, 2023
1 am
(the quiet hour)

This just happens to be the anniversary of my
father's death 38 years ago - at age 61...
It seems like a lifetime ago in another reality -
and of course it was...  He has missed so much,
but maybe that's a good thing...

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering