Ann Christine Tabaka

★ ★ ★ ★


Image by Andrew Krasilnikov

Racing Dreams

Dreams of racing above clouds haunt my past. 
Peering down on fearsome foes. 
As a child I would wake with a start – still 
breathless from the chase. 
Dizzying images of trees swirled beneath 
my running feet – furiously trying to stay aloft. 
Exhausted – heart pounding / drenched in sweat. 
I pulled the covers over my head – hiding 
from myself. Trying to make sense of what 
felt so real – yet was an illusion. 
Years walked pass / first slowly / then faster. 
Ages sped by in a dust storm of misaligned events. 
The dreams became less frequent, but persisted. 
It has been years since I had this dream / still 
I cannot shake it. It follows me into old age. 
Aching limbs trying to race from some perceived 
harm. What does it all mean? I run from myself / 
I never catch up. I race my dreams to the end.
I fear – falling to earth will be my final dream. 

Sunrise Holds Memories

I walk past dawn – feet sinking deep in wet sand.
Salt air fills my senses. Thunderous sound of crashing 
waves echo in my head. Southpoint is empty this time
of day – it is mine to absorb. The tide rolls out carrying
expectations on its shoulders. Sunrise holds memories. 
I climbed a mountain once – in the Colorado Rockies.
Air thin as a noon shadow – Mt. Sneffles towered above 
clouds. Ice axes and canteens escaped, racing down  
cliffside along with my dreams. So much snow – the 
memory brings a chill on this abandoned day. I become 
lost in faces, places, & events that swirl like an eddy
caught beneath the pier. Sunlight makes its entrance. 
Beach glass & tumbled shells sparkle in delight. Images 
recede – memories are tucked back into a locked
box of time. The sun touches my face & I walk off 
to meet my future – dawn following in my footsteps.

Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 & 2023 Pushcart Prize in Poetry; nominated for the 2023 Dwarf Stars award of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association; winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year; featured in the “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers” 2020 and 2021.


  1. Anonymous

    It’s appropriate that these poems were accepted by a German publication. The first word that came to my mind was Angst. Here’s where Siri lead me:
    “The German word Angst, fear, came into the English language in the early 1940s. In its English, psychiatric sense, “angst” signifies a feeling of insecurity, anxiety, or apprehension.” And, Chris, here you have brilliantly found the words to express those elusive but deeply felt, difficult emotions. XoRita


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