Sometimes a dream is a subject for a poem. I woke up one morning thinking about a friend, and wondering if I had failed to respond to her when she needed comfort. Dreams often present ideas for poems, and often the images in dreams are incredible metaphors for writing one.
She related her story, how her
father was buried by a second wife,
under a tasteless headstone,
where if she visited, she would
be assaulted by the reproach
of her father’s wishes denied.
I shared with her how I had seen
so many cases of cruelty to others
upon the occasion of a death.
(But my own pains were not shared,
and my own unkindness to others
at another time suppressed as well)
I remember her running out, her
emotions overwhelming her. I started
to go after her, but didn't, thinking
she wanted to be alone to regain
I shared with her later, a story of my
father... one of very few memories
of him which was wholesome but
which failed to erase the grief of all
the verbal assaults he made upon
my self esteem, so that by the time
I was fifteen, I had divorced him
emotionally, and shut down most
affection I would have liked to have
shared with him in a better world.
Now, I fear I also shut out my friend
by failing to reach out, causing a rift,
before our friendship could begin.
Writing and Art Work © by Ruth Zachary, all rights reserved.