PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Now I lay me down

With my thoughts and prayers

Folded over in my mind

Like crocheted winter blankets

I curl around myself

And float downstream

In a river of the most delicious cream

A fertile place to grow a dream

Dancing toe to toe

With my growing oracle

Adrift in the far fields

Listening to the wind rustle through

The November grain

Eating the blue right out of the wide Missouri sky

It is here I meet my ancestors

And see how much

They look like me

With hearts and heads and hands

Made of a rye German bread

Here there are no boundaries

Here there are no rag tag soldiers

To push or punish you

No "soldiers to the right, soldiers to the left"

Just the rat ta tat tat of a drumbeat

Like the rhythm of the ebbing tide

Like the ceaseless beating of God's heart

Thumping a fetal lullaby