Thinking of this space,
this place that I visit in my sleeping .
Stepping up stone stairs, mossy stones staring gingerly back upon my gaze.
Curious, I was looking up and over, spying a shackled barn.
Chained to the earth below it, the barn was bound, falling to pieces and dreading the light hitting it, making it known.
The spiderwebs glistened wet with dew drops by the light of the Autumn moon.
This lonely barn felt ugly.
He made me cry.
I told him of his beauty, holding onto his boarded wooden door.
I sang a song to him, pacifying him in the cool night.
I awoke with a tear in my eye and a smile on my face.
I felt a healing in my soul, one I could not place.
3 responses to “While Sleeping”
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They used to round up the wild barns… chain them up as a way of breaking their spirit…
They used to sell them to town houses as garages and garden sheds, stock them with chemicals and machines to keep gardens and lawns and once-wild places neat and tidy.They’ve been waiting for you.
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