Dream Walk

Tell me

did I walk

into that dream

last night . . .

or did

that dream walk

into me?

Like hard rain it pounded

at my window glass

ready to shatter all

that I believe my life to be.

I fight

trying to hold onto

my cells and my skin

even though these bones

are beginning to wane

and settle into a soft

comfortable clump.

What will become of me

when I can no longer see

beyond this shell I knew

so well as Me?

What will become of

those dreams I thought

were mine?

Joanne Cucinello  ©  2013

Nose Dives

I keep trying to understand

how and when the process of human

transformation begins to take a nose dive

for some.

How does a human being turn into a Monster?

When does that sweet quiet child suddenly

begin hurting animals, just like that?

Is it really possible to go unnoticed,

or is no one paying attention?

We hear about it every day.

The News reports another psychopath

has tortured his victim and we hear the interviews

of family and neighbors

citing he was just a quiet guy, who kept to himself.

It makes me wonder . . .

Is no one paying attention?

Is there some point in that downward spiral

when time can be suspended long enough

for an antidote to be given?

Could unconditional love be that antidote?

Is there love enough to erase the darkness

and stains of the past, or must the Monster stay

locked and chained in his Cave forever?

Joanne Cucinello  

I

Will You find Me?

Oh Lord, my soul is thirsty!

How do I live in this world?

How can I slice through fog so dense

and find that kernel of light and

truth you've promised?

I have sifted the sand around my feet

a thousand times, but it is hot and dry

and nowhere can I find that

drop of gold that floated in

my Mother's womb beside me.

Sometimes in my dreams

I can almost touch it

in a baby's smile or in a song

that has always stirred my soul

and then I wake, no longer in that grace.

What shall I do, while in my heart

there lives such fire?

Will I burn away to ashes and spend

eternity in some forgotten urn

or will you find my drop of gold,

through all this chaos and bring me home?

Joanne Cucinello    ©  2013