These Dreams of Jerusalem

“Things are in the saddle and ride mankind.”
- Emerson

There is this life
And there is another life. 
I sit here at this table 
And in this Café 
And remember fragments 
From that other life.

I once knew a dog…

The spoon upon the saucer,
Light slides across
Like a ghost.

I see cities inside of cities
And ships sailing into empty harbors.

I remember being out in the Desert
Africa, maybe…
Yes, Africa.

And there was this City hovering over the horizon.

I turned to the One walking beside me and asked,
What is that?
Is that where we are going?

That is Jerusalem.

Are we going there?

No. It’s just a form of a mirage. An illusion.

Only our bones will go there.

And we both laughed at that.

I leave the Café and walk through the City.

I remember standing before 
A window around here.
Yes, right here.

Look here: see how the buildings reflect?
But you can still see what is there
On the other side…

Can you see?

I remember falling into that pond.
Falling and it was so deep.
Falling and my armor shimmering 
Under the surface.

My dreams began again 
And my bones slipped out of my skin.

Falling, I remember these things
Behind the glass.

The point opened before me
Like a parted veil,
Revealing a world of beauty
Never imagined by me.

There are worlds inside the sun
But we do not have the sight to see them.

With both eyes open,
Seeing two things at once,
I was born into the soft hands 
Of a woman.

Putting two things together,
My armor weighing me down,
I fought all the way down
To the bottom of the pond.

Beyond the buildings are the graves.
A cemetery surrounds the City,
Walls it in with the spears of dead soldiers.

I slip through the iron fence.
I slip through.

Here is my name.
The Other beside me has no face.

And here is my name.
Chains rattle over shadows,
Here too.
And see there?
My name.

Funny: I knew how it would be.
Again, the fragrance of coffee.
The saucer and the spoon
There inside his face.
The ship in the city.
The Other beside me.

And hazy days walking through windows.

Tonight I will not dream.
Even with my dog curled at my side,

The Shadow strikes its chain.
I lay down. Again.
And dream. Again.

These dreams of Jerusalem.