The Dream
by Shanan Ballam
the shiny taste
of rain when I inhale
love leads
us back to the things
of this world
the pink roses unfurl
perfume
the moon is a white lily
about to bloom
having a stroke erases half
the world half
your working
body and your
voice
​
the owl in the willow
is a ghost
it calls to me through the open
night window, calls
to me in my dreams
in smeared colors
it sounds
like windchimes
my lips taste like lilies—
the cold scent of rain on stones—
a dark curtain embroidered
with light
the owl is a prophetess
singing to me in my sleep
the owl is a part of the willow tree
is a part of my heart
whispering
you will recover
​
fragrance of lilies in a glass vase
the crabapple tree is dotted
with pearls of rain
my lips taste like water
that is: they have no taste
the rain has turned to snow
it floats down in swirling spirals
like falling
into a dream
the windchime speaks
in the voice of god
like a waterfall,
fluid,
like the song
of a canyon wren
tumbling down
the canyon
last night I dreamed
I could walk again
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First published in Wordgathering: A Journal of Disability Poetry and Literature. From first poems after the stroke (Finishing Line Press, 2024).
I survived a massive stroke on January 9, 2022. I had expressive aphasia—an inability to speak. This is one of my favorite poems because my speech therapist told me to observe what was around me and to focus on details. I used an exercise called “20 Little Poetry Projects” to get me started, and it asks you to focus on the five senses and to add synesthesia, mixing the senses.
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SHANAN BALLAM is the author of the poetry manuscripts The Red Riding Hood Papers (Finishing Line Press, 2010), Pretty Marrow (Negative Capability, 2013), Inside the Animal (Main Street Rag, 2019), and the chapbook first poems after the stroke (Finishing Line Press, 2024). www.shananballam.org