We Were Like Those Who Dream

We Were Like Those Who Dream

Blake Petteway

“When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.”
— Psalm 126:1

Again, you are not the villain I invented,
You will not garland my neck with kettlebells.

I forget you simply want to ravish me,
Rush your spell of love across my empty mast.

Yes, God, you unfurl the fringes of my frame;
You paint the corners of my mouth with a hymn,

You blow into this jug and it quotes liturgy,
You flush my fields with the flavor of abundance,

Bringing a bouquet of yellow flowers like a young,
Eager lover, knowing his muse will be downright

Breathless and romanced, but not at all surprised—
The muse would like to elbow you, ask you to quit,

But knows you can’t restrain your buoyant charm,
As though a smart magician with fingers of wind—

Entranced, I become suspended in the windows
Like an alley cat, ablaze in playful pastels;

I am glittering, awake but not awake;
I become like one who dreams a funny dream,

Amused like Sarah as she, disbelieving,
Rocked her arms, kissing the forehead of promise.

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Blake Petteway
Poet

Blake is a writer from High Springs, FL, and recent graduate from North Greenville University who enjoys making coffee, painting, and soaking up slow moments. His work has previously appeared in Ekstasis Magazine and NGU's literary magazine, The Mountain Laurel. 

Photography by Yuliia Tretynychenko