A hundred and twenty months. Ten years. An outrageous survival.

Each night angry, uncharitable.  Sleep. No sleep. Dreams. No dreams.The death of so many. Dreams.

In my dreams, I plead with you. Please stay, Be’ta.

We’ll find a way. Don’t give up yet. Don’t go away.

Come here. Sit with me.

Tell me what I need to know. Tell me what hurts you so. Tell me how I can make it go.

I could guess when you were hungry, thirsty.

To your amused annoyance, even when you wanted to pee. I just knew. I don’t know how.

But this one I did not see coming.   I couldn’t. I don’t know how.

I am sorry. I had no map. I was lost in the fast lane.

In my dreams, our dark sides are friends.

Together they figure it out, Have a laugh, make it all okay.

In my dreams, we breathe together nice and slow,

As if singing a joyful melody. We hold hands and dance in our kitchen

Crying on each other’s shoulders, secretly.

From the fridge, I pull out a white china bowl

Filled with pomegranate seeds,

Rubies, I harvested earlier in the day. Please stay, my Jaan. I would say.

In my dreams,

through my furious longing

I can momentarily understand.

Your pain, your silence.

I can understand why you had to go.

Like a boat sailing into a new morn,

I must release you.

I must stay.

I must let you be on your way.

In my dreams.

(An ancestor of this poem is Walt Whitman, who said, “We were together. I forget the rest.” )