Transitioning Dreams
Where the body goes, the mind tends to follow
By Patricia Ranee Published 3 years ago • 1 min read
Photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash
The rain pounds as gapes between chapped lips wail and
bodies twitch with the convulsions of grief.
My memory haunts…
I see it before you,
I call:
“Brother!--watch out!”
But it is far too late.
The blast rings...your body jerks…
life slips away…
A pine box is now our barrier—
slabs of polished wood shuffling you to a different realm;
the crossbridge between heaven and earth.
I touch its lid, but I do not feel you;
only voided life.
The world delivered you, then gobbled you back.
My nightmare come to pass.
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