lullaby

i still dream about you, my little boy.
i can still feel you underneath my skin.
your heartbeat battling mine.
your whispers reaching me when the world sleeps.

watch over me, my little boy.
i'm not quite sure where to walk without you now.
take care of your daddy.
your mom still loves him.
until the stars turn cold.

i listen to the rain now, my little boy.
because i know that's how you tell me your stories.
stories about what adventures you would have had, the things you would have done.
stories about our family.
i go out in it
letting it in
gulping it down
drowning out talk, voice, sound--
swallowing the silence.

i miss you, my little boy.
when the house is quiet
i lay down on the cool carpet and take a glance into that world.
that world of make believe, broken promises, fairy tales long faded, and cold montana air i just can't seem to forget.
i see us.
all three of us.
we are nothing but light, blinding me with its radiance.
i see nothing but light.
drowning out talk, voice, sound.

for that minute i am free from these chains of truth, pulling me down under the dark waters of reality,
away from the light.
i'm drowning in air.
in light.

is this what nirvana looks like?
if it is...why do i not feel my peace?

then i shut that brilliant door in my head.
every time it opens, these precious ghosts taunt me with their bittersweet nonexistence.
break my heart with their fiction,
and i cannot take it any longer.

i cannot lose you again.
and again and again and again and again.
i know your eyes would have been blue. like your dad's. blue like the immortal sky.
ask me where my sky is, and i'll point you to him.


tell me what the angels sing to you, my little boy.
because i'm afraid i can't hear them anymore.