Little star kisses dot your face and shoulders,
and your sooty lashes blink back at me,
Wispy smoke clouds your clear night eyes.
Your mouth presses up, flexing into a wry smile that pierces me,
Not in the heart or soul, but somewhere deep within,
That I have not yet visited in my conscious mind,
Only in that very small time between sleeping and waking,
In which nothing must make sense.
The glimmer of your smile reflects off the light in my eyes,
Hoping to snap me out of my worshipful reverie.
It instead has the opposite effect, the white light leading me toward heaven,
Toward a peace I have not known since I was a small child,
and knew nothing at all.
Hark!
And await the sound of angels, their dulcet tones lulling me to sleep,
A dreamless sweep, full of blackness that is not frightening,
Emptiness that is not lonely,
And love that is so all-consuming, it is as if it is not there at all.
Accompanying Photo: “Sylvia Plath” © Giovanni Giovannetti/Grazia Neri licensed under Creative Commons 2.0.
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