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.