Boneyard (a dream)

1. Mother


My son walks with me up the mountain path,
forgetting the stream in which he played
and the butterflies that circled his head.

He looks down at the rocks, sometimes 
tripping over his feet. I don't tell him about
the the big black birds circling overhead;
visions grasp him when they're tangible.

He climbs upon my shoulders during the thunderstorm
and spreads his arms in innocence.
The St Elmo's fire sparks hellish green around his temples
No God can keep his hands to himself during a storm 

Three times I give him up but he keeps falling back.
The lightning fingers can't hold him
and from his eyes flows a strange empty light.

2. Daughter

I lie on the grass looking up 
and see the butterflies dancing in the sunlight and
over the water that is my source.

My father calls my name and I get up,
he beckons and I follow in his path
up the mountains to a crude cross
above which black clouds are waiting.

Pale and emaciated he walks in front of me like
a starving pack mule that could break with
a gust of wind.
The sounds from his throat are like dry wood.

He looks for the green and I climb upon his back;
fiery tongues strike me and I spread my arms.
The grubbiest words spill from my mouth.