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Between two worlds

 

In dreams my father is with me.

He lives in his nightmare wide awake.

 

In dreams my legs buckle.

He falls in his nightmare.

 

I see him, we cannot speak,

his frail hands outstretched to his child.

 

His hanging mouth a cave

with all his life inside, forgotten.

 

Asleep in his bed like amber in linen,

withered by time and ages rot.

 

So we meet between worlds,

to stare at each other in timeless fear.

 

This is a repost of a poem I wrote in December last year. Since its posting my Father has passed away. He went very peacefully and with great dignity on 11 Jan 25. His close family by his side. His passing was sublime and deeply moving. My Father was a man of faith, integrity and ubundant love. Despite my own personal belief I would like to think he has now met his reward in a Kingdom of Light.

Thank you all at WoL for reading and responding to me.

David.

PS. I have no fear of death. I fear witnessing the suffering of others. It is by far the most traumatising and debilitating experience I have ever had. To be free of suffering and its vestiges is a welcome relief.  

◄ At 5 o'clock a million things

Luddite ►

Comments

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David RL Moore

Thu 23rd Jan 2025 07:30

Thanks to Uilleam and Stephen for your thoughtful comments here, much appreciated.

David

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Stephen Gospage

Wed 22nd Jan 2025 08:22

So sorry that your father has passed away, David. I am sure he would still appreciate this fine, haunting poem. He will live on in dreams and memory, and perhaps elsewhere.

Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh

Tue 21st Jan 2025 13:19

Thanks for sharing that with us , David.
I've had tears in my eyes more times than I care to remember, recently...but tears are most appropriate here.

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David RL Moore

Tue 21st Jan 2025 11:15

Thanks to Graham, Landi and Flyntland for your kind words and the lovely Max Richter link.

Graham, recently my dreams have been becoming more vivid, ranging from themes of great natural beauty, love, violence and repeated dreams of my Father and friends in younger years.

I seem to be in a phase where I am remembering more of my dreaming, whilst some are welcome others are quite disturbing and upsetting. I would rather remember my dreams than not as they are a great source for ideas, often they are source of education which I find mind boggling.

David

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Graham Sherwood

Mon 20th Jan 2025 14:39

I remember the poem from its first posting. I am sorry to hear your father has died. Whilst I do not believe in a hereafter, I do believe that people live on in the memories of others. Dreams and fathers see to loom large in my though processes.

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Flyntland

Mon 20th Jan 2025 12:15

I am so glad that his death was peaceful and with dignity and that your lasting memory will be one of serenity.

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