Night School

The stars weave their night magic,
Whispering to me in my dreams,
Showing me how living in the middle of crazy feels
Right even.

I wake, mind blazing at the memories of
Crimes committed and
Pain inflicted
While it all seemed okay.

I am being shown,
My eyes opened to the ways horror happens.
The stars beam their light of  compassion
For the me that existed in these dreams
A lesson in love
I will eventually bring
To the world.

Trusting deeply in goodness
And in my version of god
I see the beauty in this
Night school.

I am being honed,
My heart and mind opened to the
Wild ways of those in pain.

The stars whisper softly,
Tell me stories of love
Loss and redemption.
I wake and know I am to tell them too,
Some day.

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3 Responses to Night School

  1. Pamela says:

    Your poetry is wonderful. Keep writing!

  2. Alana says:

    Oh thank you Pamela. I’ve always written poetry but I censor myself A LOT. Writing poetry is part of the story that stopped me from writing publicly for 20 years but I’m getting braver with it. I so appreciate your encouragement! xo

  3. Paola says:

    Hi Alana,
    a multitude of words float around in my belly as I recognize the similarities of our creative sources and impulses. I hardly know you, I live on the other side of the world, and it sometimes seems a little absurd to communicate through a medium which is based on virtual connection. Yet, despite this, I hear you in a way that takes my breadth away. In hearing you I seem to simultaneously hear and notice a part of myself which, although is and has been the driving force in my life, has been pretty much shunned and discarded by my internal ‘ruling party’.
    Things have been changing for some time now and the experience of meeting and hearing someone else speak a language I have always considered my own fills my with awe and simple but deep wonder and a sense of possibility!
    I look forward to get to know you a little more on the Shine programme.

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