We have a conversation
Same old same old
Yet, it never passes the test of time
My mother won’t hold my hand
But she told me she would always love me…once
Words spoken dead of night dreams illuminate
She comes to me in a haze of clouds
A heavenly sound; flutter of angel’s wings
I hesitate to remain emotion free; my chains drop to the floor
Leaving their mark on my wrists and heart
But, she is my mother and when she knocks
On the door of my nightmares
Everything shifts to tender images

…and I float above my pain

I surrender without caution
Arms opened wide welcoming the moments
Even though they are not of this world
I remain a lost child as she begins
To drift away into a haze of clouds
And the heavenly sound; flutter of angel’s wings
Finger tips grasping at thin air
I slip back into the darkness
And a familiar sense of abandonment

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