Birthing Dreams

Throw a blanket over me.

You, with the overarching assumptions and created hate.

There is mockery and broken-record talk on your lips.

So throw your blanket over me.

I am under it with

the OTHER,

the THEMS,

the THEYS,

who protest in the streets like oppressed people would– because they are.

And you are acting cold in the above-water, lifeless stream.

But I need the warmth.

There in the womb of reconciliation it is peaceful, and all that flows between us brings me to them.

I’d invite you in, but come with arms open and weapons down, mouth silent and ears hearing.

Come under the blanket. It’s not always what it seems.

Come under the blanket. Let’s give birth to new dreams.

Leave a Reply