A TEMPEST DRAGON #poetry by jay

i used to run through my days like sand sifting through a sieve—
or like the mist of you rising from your grave, daily you haunt 

my brain, a magnet stuck to this evil, gripped by nightmare,
a force to reckon with, no cease or desist. i struggle to stand a Victor, 

i beg iron-grips. molten-orange burns. i dream of being legless—
running from dream to dream to dream, begging for release of

the night shadow, the beast, and plea for the day to come to my rescue.
my pillow rock-hard. pounding waves. i call to my side that song

from 1969, the one i use to soothe me but i lose the music—
the tune drifting like sand in sieve, blowing in wind.

i run endless to chase ‘the dream’ of each day. i stop. i breathe, i exhale—
a murder of crows, a blow of wind, a tempest-dragon—mounts then rescinds.

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Ravit Sages on Unsplash