Steady rain — three inches and counting.
There are rows of tents in the park downtown, where, decades ago, families gathered and children played.
Sometime during the night, I awoke from a dream in which I and some unknown but familiar others were approached and threatened by a vague form of hostility. As the danger grew nearer, we watched and waited near a glistening cedar. Suddenly the danger was gone, and we understood that the cedar had protected us; we could feel its benevolence and calm, its peace and magic.
December 20, 2021
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Make It Old
I don’t want it to be a shiny new thing you can’t resist. I want it to be like the lines on my mother’s face, or the things I find in her cedar chest — a poem that has already survived.
Recently Banned Literature, February 24, 2009
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Categories: Dreams, New Poems & Pieces, Recently Banned Literature
Tags: Calm, Cedar Chests, Cedars, Diaries, Dreams, Faces, Homelessness, Journals, Magic, My Mother, Peace, Poems, Poetry, Trees
William Michaelian 