I woke up shivering in a cold sweat
The voice still ringing in my ear
The nightmare dragged me from my sleep.
Lighting lashing through my veins.
I tried to ponder over the moment
Trying to rationalize it
But one’s mystical experiences cannot be lowered to any coherent simplification.
The blurring image of the clock made my eyes hurt.
The constant scraping racket of the ceiling fan pulsing my ears
I fought it hard to catch my breath
I grasped my phone to hear my mother’s voice
Oh! How soothing her silvery voice sounds.
It rips me apart every time I have to accept the grim truth.
But the voice recordings turns back the clock to a time before pain.
Only if she could hear me back
How much her broken child needs mending
Just like torn hemlines.