October 23, 2021

Where the Nighthawk Sings. {Poem}


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I’m woken from a dream and the sweat from my night glistens in the silver gleam of night, and a chill sets in.

I sit up.

I sigh stretch and wake.

I write.

The dream comes back, and I’m a child naked and free, running through fields with bare feet.

My hair streams the colour of burnt sun and my heart beats fast.

Onward, I run through a corn maze. I look down and see my skin browned from the sun. I am liberated and free with no care and no worries.

There alone, I spin and stare up at the bluest sky until I hear the nighthawk sing.

She sings for me the sweetest song.

The sound reminds me of the home from which I came.

Love knows no bounds.

This love, no one shall divide or asunder.

This life, this love is overflowing.

God’s love is as infinite as the prairie skies.

Here, the nighthawk sings just for me.

Here, the day and night meet, and life is glorious.

Here, the nighthawk sings.


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