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.” )
