In the time between waking and dreaming, you’re here,
The remnants of our argument coursing through my mind;
The frustration at your callousness filling my heart as family leaves and the dream fades.
I wake
Heart heavy
Missing you
My stomach twists at my relief of it having been a dream.
Those words weren’t spoken (this time).
You didn’t drive everyone away (again).
I wasn’t left trying to pick up the pieces of something I didn’t know how to fix.
You’re a ghost.
This is not how I would choose to remember you, the familiar fights so real, but this is as much who you were as your love and your care.
Legacy is complicated, I think, and hope that when I go I do not leave behind people feeling like vine suffocated trees.
I wrote this in late 2023, coming out of my last dream of the night where I’d been arguing with my dad (who died in July 2022). I’ve debated sharing this for awhile, especially as I haven’t touched poetry as a general format for many, many years. To anyone grieving – from any sort of loss – if this resonates, I see you. Grief is complicated.
The Cozy Cauldron 