My nightmares-
Pretty rare
Except for the dawns nowadays.
"Tension, tension", the quack says.
They are quite typical;
Sometimes, only topical;
Even inoffensive to some
And I wake up to a hum.
I watch empty houses someone just left
The walls are falling, full of cleft
But the familiarity leaves me to weep
Reminding how the house was mine to keep.
There, when it rains, it pours
The fleeting dove only soars
It won't stay for your pleasure
And the tears remain in the closure.
Silence is seen as torture
"If she comes any closer, scorch her."
What a life if it can be called one!
I'd rather leave home and cease being a son.
The spirit therefore fuels up
Rage boils over the tea cup-
The very one I am served everyday
Hand over the reins and I will stay.
Fight me on the ground that is too shaky
For you- I'm bound to help you in waking
Open up your eyes to the peace I offer
Or make up your mind and I'll let us suffer.
My end is a meadow
And hopefully, not a widow.
The promises are why I decide to wake
Or else, I'd dream forever- for own sake.
~ Ithmam Hami, 5th August, 2023, 5 am
Explication
After we've established what a dream and a good one at that is, we must redefine nightmares in literal terms. Every individual has nightmares- some more often than others.
I wrote "My Nightmares" pretty recently- recounting all my frequent nightmares. The reason of such recent involvement was because I had been having a stretch of recurrent dreams that were replicating my real life horror at that point. These, I consider my nightmares.
Nightmares don't always have to be something out of a horror movie, a ghost, or the sleep paralysis hallucination. Nightmares are when our secrets want to come out, our deepest desires are too suppressed, our darkest vices are presented in front of the world and we leave our comfort places. Nightmares in sleep become ever malicious when they align with the nightmares we really nurture within us.
This poem is very personal to me. Therefore, I can't share with you all what I wrote about- verse by verse like the other ones. Leaving it upto the readers as to how they want to interpret my expressions in their own relatable ways.
But I can hint towards some. For example, in the beginning of the structure, I reminisce about my old place, the memories of which haunt me to this day. And so I write those lines in the third verse-
I watch empty houses someone just left
The walls are falling, full of cleft
But the familiarity leaves me to weep
Reminding how the house was mine to keep.
The following verses are more personal and hurtful than I even imagined until deciding to write about them now and I can't.
The final verse is almost an oxymoronic cynical optimism. I promised people in real life. Their expectance of me is what keeps me going on for something formidable in view. My desire to embrace death in acceptance is what I want fulfilled the most.
My end is a meadow
And hopefully, not a widow.
The promises are why I decide to wake
Or else, I'd dream forever- for own sake.
YOU ARE READING
Disconnect | A Poetry Chapbook
Poetry***FULLY PUBLISHED*** Disconnect is an amateur project I've undertaken to explore an experimental genre of art- "Hyonagogic Poetry"- a certain poetry-writing style focused on reflecting upon the subconscious aspect of reality. Although, I'm attempti...
