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About Your Nephew

Updated on June 24, 2015

In order to believe in death

we must first believe in life

but it has been said

that life is only an illusion

a waking, lucid dream

I spoke to my mother

then she was gone


I touched her flesh and it was cold

I kissed her face and still

it was cold,vacant, but so sincere

but if she were only a dream

if she were only a dream

then perhaps I can dream her again

and laugh again until we cry


if she has never lived

then she can never die

please, leave me to a long sleep

so that I can dream this way again

About This Poem

I was very tired, and on my way to bed when I read a woman's post in an online poetry group. It was about her nephew who was dying. And so, the muse compelled me to respond. Although I was reluctant to set about this work I have been greatly rewarded for my efforts. It is, I believe, a passing thought that has occurred to me throughout my life, but I have never focused on it quite this way. And so, by taking the time to follow the muse, I came to realize with great clarity that I have never believed in life, but only dreams. I now better understand that dreams are the essence of life. From my perspective, it is not important what this woman herself imagined, or what truly motivated her to express herself at that moment in time. For me, what is most important is that she stepped out into the world and shined a light, and so know I can see more clearly. This is how the world will speak to us. All we must do, is to take the time to listen. Osiyo!

© 2015 Ronnie wrenchBiscuit


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