Hesperus

I have been writing well over a year now. Finally there are periods of the day where it does not consume me. Nights, however, nights continue to be dark. I cannot escape from my dreams, creeping in, stealing the peacefulness of the night, in my sleep when I am most unguarded and vulnerable. I awaken, still frightened, still frozen, and wait. Wait for the first light of the day and thank God for the blessed dawn. In these long dark hours of winter it is the most difficult. Dreams take over, bleed into, invade the daylight hours. I lay awake, trying to figure out a way to co-exist, to ignore the dream when it comes up, like I do when I see him at the end of the bed.

I try to move around it, let it be, yet it refuses to exit my head. Am I to carry around invasive dreams which seem to insist I pay attention, the images, the scars? As my friend so astutely notes when I go over and over it, and the relationship, he owns me. Is he going to continue to own me? I wonder is he going to always be the third person in a relationship? I do not feel I am letting him. He is an unwelcomed intruder. Though I ignore it, he still does not go away, this clear presence of someone who is not there.

It is as though I am suspended between two worlds. The one you see, the one only I know. I want to run from it to the safety, but like in a dream I seem anchored here and cannot get enough momentum to break free. The struggle sometimes leaves me weary and I need to rest. Just rest. It won’t leave me alone to do that.

I am determined to not stay here. I want to get busy building a life. My wreckage is substantial and I will never throw it off so my life needs to include it somehow, without it pulling me under and holding me there.

“O father! I hear the sound of guns, oh say, what may it be? Some ship in distress, that cannot live in such an angry sea!” Longfellow

 

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