The Nightmare

When the silver orb embraces me

I loosely shut my pretense

The dusk brings down the fence

Here, there’s no need for an army

In the intimate time of night

Confused pictures appear and speak

Of one unconscious antique

As a whisper shushes the light

Dark and bright, the dream is free

A creek through the mind’s lens

The rude solitude makes amends

For the walls of an unspeakable plea

The view is a stifling cloud

Stealing my breath, consuming my flesh

I’m powerless in wounds fresh

Dread so silent and so loud

Petrified in that endless instant

Thankfully, you’re fending off the weep

As death strokes me back to sleep

Now, it’s clear, I shouldn’t be resistant

Jolyane Saule

Candidate à la maîtrise

Département d'anthropologie, Université de Montréal

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