Anchorage, Alaska

Anchorage, Alaska

There are caves with icicles, with no light,
No radiant meadows with room to expand 
When the sun comes in one direction,
Up, not down,
Of course, I’m not as real as the coming of the sun,
Nor is this wasteland I live in,
I’m a figment of someone’s imagination,
waiting to wake up,
from this nightmare,
Say nothing as in the movie,
Be quiet, be very, very quiet.
Nothing is more real than the coming of the sun,

The bus I ride to the market isn’t real,
nor is lying in bed after dawn.
I will wake up and be someone else,
I forget sometimes,
I’m a dream someone else is dreaming.
I believe when she wakes up
The fences of frost will melt out of the way,
life will be better through the gate of intention,
everything will always be pleasant
and I will no longer exist.

No words to say 
And no way to look out
Anchorage, Alaska
On the caves
Or the clouds
But what I represent will be inside of her,
And she will remember the photos we took
Of each other in Anochrage, Alaska<
Of the caves,
Of the meadows,
Of the country
Before I disappeared,
She gave me a blank stare
Like a child looking for crumbs left behind,
I smiled while watching the sky,
she waved as I faded,
her back facing the coming of the sun.  

Renee Bray, January 6, 2025
Food for Thought
Prompt - Inner Acreage Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer