Dreaming Gaia

Waking mildly
to the morning dew
the condensation of cold and comfort
pressed against my chest.

I am finding it hard to rest
to sleep well
to dream without pain, heartache or anger
of past loves
of past friends
these dreams that never end.

Last night he returned
the man, the father, the partner the lover
it is always a man, the fool
who I end up hitting or loving or dancing with
in my childhood school

I run circles, dance waltzes, lay on beaches with past bosses
in the depths of the night
the dark embers of my sleep
when I remember
when I create
a different reality with past loves and past hates.

Then slowly
mildly
lazily
waking
to the dream of my making
a dream I can touch and count
watching the ticks of the hand circle by
but time has now stopped and I wonder why
we ever measured time from paint a to point b

The clocks no longer have power in this reality.

A new dream is surfacing
despite what imprisons me at night
this morning, this time
She is waking from slumber into might.