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Sara K. Penrod

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The Nightmares Speak
by Sara K. Penrod
Friday, June 02, 2006
Rated "R" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Sara K. Penrod
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           >> View all 40

The Nightmares Speak

“…so black that no sky could squeak through.”
--Sylvia Plath, “Daddy”

We come to you
when you should feel safest: tucked away
in those sheets, curled up around that ratty
stuffed dog you still cuddle in the dark.

That is when we come
when we press heavy on top of your body
when we make you forget you can breathe
when we fill you up with burning images.

We see how you jerk
and shudder, how you run
and run
and run

when you know you can’t escape
the chaser. We see
you pull the blankets over your face
so you don’t cry.

Oh, yes, we know
how you lie paralyzed, twisted
in a ball, flopping
like a beached fish.

We know how you try to erase the pictures
with sunlight searing your eyes, and we see
the images cauterized in your mind still. In the cloudy
darkness, you always belong to us.

We have long thin fingers
but they are strong fingers. They tear away
the haze of pills swallowed at bedtime,
rip through the endless mugs of scalding tea.

You cannot stay awake forever,
sweetheart. Always we will find you,
the cold blue flames and deep green water.
We always find you at last.

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Reviewed by Regis Auffray 6/3/2006
Very chilling, Sara. I used to have nightmares as a child. I am very grateful that they have been replaced by dreams. Thank you for sharing this gift. Love and peace to you,

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