WHEN DARKNESS COVERS THE MOUNTAIN

WHEN DARKNESS COVERS THE MOUNTAIN

We must sleep as a sun slips behind
our mountains to the north -
as if time is light and dark.

We must hope for dreams at night -
dreams which pull me up and over our
mountain, into another space and time.

Here the sky is blue - although below
a black sky hovers over land - drenched
by a blast of showers; four inches Mama
told me.

Mama, she doesn't know I am - in a new world
where I can play in light - leaving darkness
of my past - she, doesn't know...

Against the color blue MaMa would be smiling
but, not every day - she would feel yellow
here with sunshine below her -

Because it is here where I need nothing
but my soul to lead me - my lost friends to
smile and show me, teach me what MaMa lost
in time forgot to do.

Here I can protect - be kind, and recall only
what brought happiness - what brought me
closer to those I had seen in darkness.

Our mountains in daylight - I return to wet
fields behind our home to see a sun begin
to rise to my east between two mountains.

Now the rain is gone - people mill around to
begin a new day and I am happy - I smile
to feel their love - no matter what I knew -

And, tonight when I slip away from darkness -
I will grow stronger soaking up the colors
to carry in my heart - back home.

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved

AGING BUNDLES OF DEBRIS

Aging Bundles of Debris

Seven... locked inside a storm cellar
bulbs hang to dry in damp -
darkness of night.
Sleds are posed for winter play - long
piles of wood where Mama said,
“Mice live.”

I reach to find a glove grandmother
used in her garden, stiff from yellow
paint.

Light enters near an oval window
covered in last years paper, and
saran wrap taped to studded walls.
It’s beyond the door where steps
of cement lead up to reach outside.

Tiny pieces of cement catch between
toes, tickle bare feet. Spider webs
hang near a light switch, so I don’t
touch… silver strands of silk - still -
until the bulb heats and moves the web

I am stranded here with aging bundles
of debris -

I see it now! Feel it now -
Locked down in a storm cellar -
a play spot - a hide out,
a storage room for grandmother’s vegetables -
a shed for tools, a place where
mama kept cardboard boxes filled
with dolls, tricycles - hanging above my head.

I remember - cold, and shiver run
up and down my arms – even in summer.
I remember fear, when someone caught
me alone in the storm cellar -
where children never played.

Nancy Duci Denofio
published page 5
Just Another Day