Half awake, I sense them

among crystals and stalagmites

in the caverns of sleep

above water gurgling

from an unknown source,

shifting their grip sideways

on mossy stones.

It’s not their shrieks

nor their silence

that hold me

in this humid presence,

only recognition from long ago.

The rustle of their coming and going

scatters around me,

echoes and whispers

I distantly hear

from the time of the womb.


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