Transitioning Dreams
Where the body goes, the mind tends to follow
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.
About the Creator
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