It hangs alone, suspended

on a blank wall.

Its rounded edges wrapped

in coarse black leather

that shelters its fragile frame.

 

Strings of sinew reach out

to embrace one another,

while its centerpiece, an

arrowhead, struggles to

cut its way out.

 

The dusty scent of moss

assaults the nose, while

the pebbles decorating

its edges are a smooth

comfort to dry fingertips.

 

Feathers reach downward,

extending like little beards

from its chin. Beads adorn

them, creating a rare gift

for their doting chief.

 

I can almost see the horrors,

the nightmares that haunt

our dreams. Kicking and

crying: passing illusions

of lost children and beasts

dancing and laughing.

 

But I wake with only memories

of pleasant thoughts: dreams

of home, love and comfort.

The monsters cease their cries,

they are the inmates of the

only impenetrable prison:

The Dream Catcher.

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