RESURRECTION (photomorph) & HUMAN REMAINS (free verse dream poem) by Roswila

HUMAN REMAINS

Could this dream have any more images in it
that turn me off, that make me want to totally
reject it and not even attempt to write about it?
I don't think so

For starters: three dead people buried in garbage
cans in shallow graves beneath a lawn

Add to all this, the dead are those who've
been highly problematic in my life, with each
of the three doing double duty: I know who
they are, er, rather were; however, their names
are not theirs but those of others who also give
me fits, making a grand total of six folk
who are dead to me

Then there's the fact that the woman whose
hoe hit the garbage cans as she was cleaning
up the messy lawn bears the name of a Saint!

Yeah, only a Saint would want to or even
could take on this smelly resurrection (oh,
yes, I forgot to mention the aroma coming
from the cans-cum-coffins once they got
jostled was eye watering and nauseating)

I'm reminded of what William Faulkner
said: "The past is not dead, it's not even
past" ... this is what denial does, buries
but does not rid us of what we refuse
to deal with anymore

Yet just what am I and this benighted
Saint as she dithers unhappily over what
her hoeing has resurrected, supposed to do
with all this evidence of death and denial?

Do human remains make good compost?


[free verse poem on a dream of 1-6-17. I can count the number of nightmares I've had in my life on the fingers of one hand. Although I don't consider this one of them, it comes darn close. BTW, my personal definition of a nightmare is a dream that's so impossible to tolerate that I wake myself up to get away from it. And in those few I've had, I was raped, or stabbed or attacked in some way. None of that happened here. I also have begun to suspect that the burials may not be all that negative. Nor the Saint all that positive. Once that possibility of compost entered my waking mind in the writing process, I began to see a suggestion that there's a way I cause myself much misery by digging up the dead, so to speak. All the while, thinking I'm doing something necessary. Something that was necessary at one time but may be no more. As in actuality many things do -- despite Faulkner's assertion -- have their ends; are truly over. I'm now reminded of a bible quote I saw on a Zen calendar: Let the dead bury their dead. My interpretation in light of this dream? Live, here and now, and leave the dead and gone be. Photomorph "Resurrection" (10-5-09 7336v4g) by Roswila]

PLEASE NOTE: in most browsers you can click on the above image for a larger version. Also, the photo accompanying a post is not necessarily meant to illustrate it, but to reflect some small, even slant aspect of the verse, similar to Japanese haiga (illustrated haiku).

There are many other sorts of posts on this blog. I indicate which are about or influenced by dreams. Some non dream focused posts are book reviews, "regular" poems (some by other writers), scifaiku, writing exercises, Tarot haiku, photos, haiga, and so on. However, most of those are in much older posts. There's a listing by month going back to early 2006, at the end of the sidebar.

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until next time, keep dreaming,

[a/k/a Patricia Kelly]
**** If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”). Roswila's other blog (dedicated to her photos only, i.e. no poetry or other writing; daily post); TRYING TO HOLD A BOX OF LIGHT.