Monday Poem: These Battered Landscapes

These Battered Landscapes

Your hands carve shapes in the frosty air
as you describe one more nightmare.
These could be your dreams blown around
like dead leaves by a harsh wind
that respects no sanctuary.

We stand on these bared hillsides
where only defeated grass grows
and look out over landscapes
battered by winds and the falling rain

looking for answers we know
cannot ever be found, and we know too
that those dreams that haunt your nights
will never let us escape from them.

One day we know we must return
to walk those empty corridors again
and open all those doors we left closed.