While My Shadow Slumbers

I create puppets on the wall out of misshapen hands

by using the streetlight as a spot and the moon as a fill.

A flickering candle starts the dance and suddenly

creatures of the night appear vivid on the wallpaper.

These illusions cannot hurt me

they are here to comfort a restless imagination.

Ghostly projections bend with distortion

and as I breathe over the wick

they bow their heads in silence.

.

While my shadow slumbers

I take walks in the midday sun

my silhouette shrinks and fades

only to wake when it wants its next meal

feeding on worries like a hungry ghost.

I use this time wisely knowing I don’t have long.

I jest with new friends, pick spring flowers

and point out the beauty in the everyday.

I kiss a girl under a strangler fig

and pretend it’s our treehouse.

Fairy-lights brighten the mundane

and like kookaburras we laugh without care

thinking about nothing other than the moment.

.

While my shadow slumbers

I dance in the rain under crochet

peering through holes of a black and white blanket

as heavy drops of rain cool the humid air.

I see each one in full majestic beauty–

one molecule is infinitesimal

but together they keep the flowers watered

the birds bathed and quench an idle thirst.

I spin around and dance in a summer shower

apricate a rainbow and for a second

wish I was a painter who could

capture the delicate balance of the glistening leaves.

.

While my shadow slumbers

I drink wine for the taste of it

appreciate its age and relish in its texture.

I wish I could share a glass with friends

or call them up to tell them that I care

and tell them that my darkness is asleep.

I would send them love and inspiration

and wish them all the best.

As the clouds pass, I create shapes in the sky

and watch wispy dragons blow the clouds away.

When the smoke dissipates, I see a black projection

but I ignore the thought – not today old friend.

.

While my shadow slumbers

I’ll fold the deepest of sorrows into paper planes

and papers cranes and gift them out as tokens

origami mementos to reminisce on birds

never unfolded, only to be hung like a flock

to aid in the late-night performances of a restless soul.

I imagine they’re flying and imagine they’re free

and can finally rest as my heavy darkness sleeps.

If you put colored glass up to light it reflects that color.

I’ll be sure to remember that the next time I see my shadow

and tell him to look upon the brighter side of life.

The next time he is awoken from his hibernation

he won’t stay long, as I’ll be too amused to care.