Dreams of tidal waves, and at first I am flying high above them on singed wings. I am exhilarated, I am free and weightless, and then I plunge down into the ocean. All part of the plan; but I am afraid. The waves, blue and green, roll toward me and they are so immense, so powerful, and I know how easy it is to drown.
Dreams of gore and sex. Dreams of faces I will never see again, the murderous heat of Georgia summer, of swimming near smooth round stones in Lake Superior. Almost memory, things that never happened and never will.
And a week ago a heartbeat that sounded to me like the rhythms of war drums. Could there be anything else that will ever come close? Have I ever loved anything until now? Radio silence.. ghosts and snow. - But then, there all along, the shifting architecture of my own body, bloodless and sore.
"Awake, my soul."
