Dreamcatcher
she gathers dreams that were
shattered in the last storm
fragments burnt and charred
when lightning struck, turned
an armful of hopes to ash—
she laces them into a willow hoop
torrential rain doused the fire;
shards and broken bits remained—
she spread them upon fine muslin
woven with fibers she had spun
on the wheel of an aching heart
until the storm passed and the sun
stretched out its golden arms
to weave those dreams back together
into different shapes
draped in morning dew
they shone again.
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
don’t tell me how much
you love me, not now -
November draws me
into bleak arms -
crow flies overhead
I hear pandemonium -
last night’s hurricane blew the roof off
pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires -
She needs to dig deep
to pull the roots
that grow under her feet
to do so requires strength
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