Grief

Almost every night, I dream of you.

Sometimes, you’re larger than you were

in life,

like a hundred pounds more,

yet finally light.  

…

I’m absorbing new mornings,

but grief is a slow teach

of grace.

Forgiving myself for unused words

and everything I didn’t know

is a dying to perfection.

I’m sorry I never told you,

“I love you”.

…

Can I dream

to keep time from stealing

my memory of you?

How sharply

I still remember your voice,

your volume.

How deeply

I’m afraid to forget.

…

Can I dream

of another last day with you?

What all would we do?

What all would we say?

Would it all be enough

to comfort the reality of loss?