Tarnished dreams

awoken to a frosty moon standing steady and full in the dark morning, as early commuters made their way along the road beneath, maybe unaware of the beauty above, rushing and thinking about a million other things

I paused a while  coffee in hand and watched the lunar light shine, and for a moment hear no sound at all

cloud came and moved across like a blanket being tugged to cover a treasure and it appeared the magical moon was gone

now you see it now you don’t

and I think of dreams long forgotten, covered by layers of time, distraction, loss and disappointment
are they gone now?
how can they be when those dreams were felt, they filled space in our hearts and heads
they are no less there, just less felt, less accessible

the toil of finding them hurts to even consider,
the thought of trying constricts breathing – gasping for air in the memories and painful reminders of missed opportunities and screaming at brick walls

dare we dream again? consider those dreams again?
the ones that cost us before to venture into, to show and express

dare we come with our dirty offering, like a tarnished coin, that once felt like gold and now seems blackened and dull?
is it worth acknowledging now?

like the widows mite

dare we open up the fist tightly formed around it?
dare we allow it to be seen and cleaned, let the hand that holds it to be massaged and washed, made ready to be held and to hold?

hold his hand
and in trusting and letting him love, love us and our dreams, dare we believe that he will hand it back, polished and clean, and ready to be spent?

perhaps the pain was never really about the unfulfilled dream, perhaps it was the resulting isolation that harmed us most? it’s hard to hold a fist after all

naomi sarah 2025