Dreams Made of Green
A scream wakes him up-
His own; wasn’t his dream
Green?
Next day, the green sheets,
And green hangings,
And green curtains
Are gone.
Back he goes
Into the green.
It never lets him go.
How many things would he have to
Disown?
One day,
Not a night,
It consumes the atmosphere
Again.
He finds himself looking
At two green eyes;
He remembers.
There was the trial,
The testimony,
The crushing relief
When shackles are undone with a loud
Clang.
There was the silent conversation:
Grudging thanks,
Given,
Perhaps not taken.
Wasn’t that when the green dreams
Began?
And then,
The waking nightmares start.
He breathes green,
Drinks it,
Eats it,
Thinks it,
Smells it,
Loves it,
Caresses it,
Hurts it,
Murmurs it,
Screams it.
He lives it until
He can no longer live
Without it.
But when he confronts it,
And it stands in front of him
Alive,
Curious,
Resentful,
Demanding,
All he can do to it
Is offer a cold nod.
Isn’t that why
He still dreams
Of green,
But never has it?