Bliss

Still I dream

of the River Mersey in the darkness

Your father's hand held above it

Your mother's tears

dropping on the water

Still I dream

of your face cupped by the moonbeams

Ethereal in its beauty

How that black wind

must've ran fingers through the blondness of

your hair

I wept beneath the shower that day

and my mother said

'please don't do anything stupid'

but my stupidity was long done

in the silence between us

after the letters had died

I do not burden myself with guilt

there was nothing more

to be done

Still I dream of the River

your face

your hair

his hand on the coffin

Still I dream of the River

those tears

streaming like an empty rainfall

diving like a bird to water

and where are all the fish?

Still I dream of the River

of the ease we once had

and were totally and blissfully

unaware of

Still I dream of the River

and you

and me

and what could have become of us

in another time

or place or

misremembered poem

There are only dreams left

for me to cling to

like silent prayers of the subconscious

falling

falling

falling

down upon that River

and making no sound

leaving only silence and grief and

the smallest incomprehensible sense

of bliss