In dreams my father is with me.

He lives in his nightmare wide awake.

 

In dreams my legs buckle.

He falls in his nightmare.

 

I see him, we cannot speak,

his frail hands outstretched to his child.

 

His hanging mouth a cave

with all his life inside, forgotten.

 

Asleep in his bed like amber in linen,

withered by time and ages rot.

 

So we meet between worlds,

to stare at each other in timeless fear.

 

This is a repost of a poem I wrote in December last year. Since its posting my Father has passed away. He went very peacefully and with great dignity on 11 Jan 25. His close family by his side. His passing was sublime and deeply moving. My Father was a man of faith, integrity and ubundant love. Despite my own personal belief I would like to think he has now met his reward in a Kingdom of Light.

Thank you all at WoL for reading and responding to me.

David.

PS. I have no fear of death. I fear witnessing the suffering of others. It is by far the most traumatising and debilitating experience I have ever had. To be free of suffering and its vestiges is a welcome relief.