Lucidity | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

Cristiano OliveiraFlickr/CC BY-NC 2.0

From shine, lux, light, sleep with the dreamer awake, languid as if in water

If we were free from obscurity would everyone pause as instructed

The way birds dip and dive then meaningfully suspend, trusting wind

Clear eye—steady center with limbs drawn in—while all around—storms

Lucida intervalla—common in medieval legal documents, suggesting a dark age

Now pendulous—logically follows any light available

Can be seen now with greater brightness

Though the usage of lucid as bright and shining is mostly obsolete

Transparent, clear, evident—none of us are separate—even with our bodies

Tucked carefully into boxes, cabinets, cars, homes, thoughts

Now is even more imperative to remember that our separation in physical space does not reflect lucid being

The ones in which all of our forms embedded in soil—in which birds dip beaks

And the space beneath water blanketed where everyone rests

Can you see human forms tangled, alive, beneath soil or water

Waiting with the intelligence of seeds

Our limbs remain entwined even if we have not met—mingled with the dead

All decomposition—as we await the lucidity of waking—becoming directors

In dream—no matter that lucidity is invisible

Many times I attempted to wake within dreams and was unable

Laynie Browne is a poet, prose writer, teacher and editor. She is the author of 14 collections of poems and four books of fiction. Recent publications include a book of poems, In Garments Worn by Lindens; a novel, Periodic Companions; and a book of short fiction, The Book of Moments.
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