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