Lunacy

Moon

In my dream

I wake to a crushing pressure on my chest.

It wants me to stop.

Breathing.

Being.

It. What hates me?

Is it outside, trying to get in?

Or inside, trying to get out?

I struggle to catch some air.

I fight without moving.

What does it want?

I claw my way to consciousness,

Breathing now, in and out,

In rhythm with hands clutching, releasing balls of sheets.

Heart fluttering, grasping at normalcy,

Whatever that is, at 3am.

Through the bedroom window, the full moon bathes me in its crazy light.

Reality begins to overtake whatever that other thing was/is.

Mom is gone.

Sitting up, I see her, across the pool.

Watching, loving, caring.

This is what lunacy is.

--Sherry Lowell-Lewis, Jan. 1, 2023