Dissociative Disorder

I/we birth poems enriched by
multi-faceted
seeds sown

the dreams come,
but the fabric
is ofttimes
misshapen
and torn
 

some waking hours bring
no reason
& even less rhyme

and secrets beget

secrets of their own

in the recesses of my mind...

I/we fashion words
to soothe hurt 
ease pain
make love

to curse

then bless
start over

begin again 

I/we see
with the eye of fingertips
sounds we utter
don't come from lips

we stitch pictures together
from the silhouette
of souls
against the wall
above a feather
bed

making manifest
past-present
future
of all the things we

ever heard/said

I/we blend/spin

thoughts
on a 3-dimensional wheel
whirling
elliptical orbits 
round
my selves
creating
tapestries

surreal
 

please don't wake us

there's nothing to fear
it's the sanity
of a poet

we love it here

Bridgette Alyce Wynn © 2005