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the dream I can’t remember

it’s 3 a.m.
I wake up from a dream
I don’t remember
painfully not remembering
was it you?
I miss you
I feel that

were you there in the dream
I can’t remember
I try to reach back into the dream
it’s like fog thick as a stone wall
perfection
this dream I want to go back in to
to find you in
perfection I can no longer have

I can’t remember
but I remember you
each of you

it’s like yesterday
when I first knew you were gone
and only living here inside

will I find you when I’m gone too?
or will you have moved on
from there too?

or will my death be like the dream
I can’t remember
only a thick fog
roiling there
like a massive stone wall
of blankness?

loss loss loss loss
I wonder how I can still breathe
when you can’t

it would be better if you were here
and I wasn’t
you take this harder job of living
for awhile

my heart aches
I press my hand down on it
it recognizes me and calms
but it still goes on aching
and it goes on beating
my faithful faithful heart

for now

from Steve — poems from a friend — Bill Eberle

Thomaston     March 19, 3–4 a.m.

Last night I learned my mother in her late 90s has fallen and broken her pelvis. Now I wonder: is she still alive? I’ll know tomorrow.

© 2019, Bill Eberle