This is not about the dread and shock
\nof finding myself back at that house
\nwe rented over thirty years ago.<\/p>\n
This is not about walking into the kitchen,
\nmy gaze skirting the soiled linoleum floor,
\nthe cluttered counter-top, the grease-filled stove-top
\nI had scrubbed so diligently just before we moved away.<\/p>\n
This is not about the overgrown azalea shrubs
\nhugging the foundation below the screened porch,
\nthe weedy flower beds bordering the brick walkway
\nleading to the front door.<\/p>\n
The lawn we had fertilized so faithfully
\nnow mottled with ant hills.
\nThose cherished yellow bearded irises, gone.<\/p>\n
This is about tingling from scalp to toes
\nas I confront that past life, now returned
\nto haunt my dreams anew.<\/p>\n
This is about struggling
\nto break free as my brain plays tricks on me,
\nholds me hostage to reckon with the wreckage
\nof that long-abandoned life. <\/p>\n
This is about my tightly clenched teeth,
\nthe sweat-soaked sheet beneath as I awaken.
\nMy eyes open to this new day, to my sun-filled bedroom,
\nto my sweetheart breathing softly by my side.<\/p>\n
The Nightmare This is not about the dread and shock of finding myself back at that house we rented over thirty years ago. This is not about walking into the kitchen, my gaze skirting the soiled linoleum floor, the cluttered counter-top, the grease-filled stove-top I had scrubbed so diligently just before we moved away. This … Continue reading Stephanie Shafran<\/span>