Like a bird I crouch,
Perched on the highest window sill,
Afraid to fly, afraid of up and down
Afraid of my reflection in the glass.
Curled up I lie, the bed a heaving ocean,
Frothing from a thousand mouths.
Your touch is cool amidst the boiling sea,
Your hand my link to every-day.
A foggy dream, and in the damp around me
I drift, bereft of all direction,
And run aground and founder
On my journey home.
Your steady breath chastens the tempest
And like a strong current
Speeds my ship onwards,
With the clouds gone and the fog lifted.
Then I dare to raise my head again,
And look into your calm blue eye
And find my place,
And know myself again.
© jsmorgane (March 2011)