You Come To Me In Dreams

Blue Dream Magic by Konrad Bilo

I
Prepared was I or thought I was at least.
Often we spoke of it with those held dear.
I named the hope and played the public priest
And tried to hide my confidential fear.

A doubtful muse that told me of my need
For one to see me safely through the gloom,
A lie it told to force me to concede
That loneliness will be my future doom.

And when you gasped for your last breath, I prayed
That I could know that God was in this loss,
To feel his peace and not to be afraid.
I faltered though and only saw the cross.

Despair has often gripped me in these days
That doubtful muse has whispered in my ear,
“Better was she than you in all her ways,
How now to live like her without her near.”

II
But now you come to me in dreams each night,
Your spectre gifts me with unhelpful hope
As it presents a false persistent fight
And in my sleeping world, you live and cope.

There is no grief in my nocturnal life,
For it is there you breathe and speak to me.
I get to hold your face, my fearless wife,
And tell again my love, my joy, my glee.

Laments I made and fears I felt are gone,
My doubtful muse is silenced for this time.
In this shadow story I cheer you on
To turn the tide of Death’s unreal crime.

And how I wish that this new truth were true
And your untimely passing was not past.
It’s here we make our marriage vows anew
To stay as one in mind and heart and last.

III
When I awake you become my pillows
And this reality seems stark to take.
The tears, they flow, the crashing dread billows,
A dawning wish that I was not awake.

But in my dream you are not free from pain
You still must fight infection there and so
For selfish ends I long for you in vain;
Despite the hurt, it’s right to let you go.

And yes, my doubtful muse spoke truth, in part,
I do still fear my loneliness to come,
What kind of days can I now seek to start?
But I still trust my God will not stay dumb.

I am still his and always his to keep
Or lost am I in loss, no hope, no point.
The resurrection wakes us from our sleep,
The day is his, and for him to anoint.