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In the Dream

by jocelyn Townsend 8 months ago in social commentary
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a poem

In the Dream
Photo by Phil Botha on Unsplash

In the dream,

We are born learned and loving.

Loving being like a fleece blanket or window sun spot on a snowy day.

It is being held by both hands as my feet lift up, up, up, and swing;

My ebullient laughter from my buddha belly,

My buddha belly baby fat,

The rolls of my skin serve no purpose but to keep me warm.

I was born knowing.

This is known,

In the dream,

We walk,

Until our baby fat grows thick and heavy,

And our torsos long.

I am taller now,

And shorter still for my small demeanor goes unchanged,

Despite all that's been deploring,

I still enjoy looking up at things.

There is less pain in the dream.

No one walks on a surface that is too hard,

And we know the land we walk on,

Because it has cradled our feet,

The soft sequoia sod,

Scented of wet morning dew.

In the dream,

We are awake.

social commentary

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jocelyn Townsend

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