The other side of the arch.
I dream’t last night in vivid detail of churches burning,
the church was symbolic, the specific church is the root
of my distrust in religion, or people perhaps. I sometimes
think the two over lap. As I watched smoke or stream,
I believed it to be steam,
as I watched it billow from the building, I skipped
through an arch,
a big ornate dirty grey stone arch
and there on the other side was blue skies green fields
and although I felt fear and I searched and searched for my past,
it wasn’t there and around me were new yet familiar faces,
all of them calm
as though they couldn’t see the other side of the arch.
Karen Hayward ©2016