Wednesday, April 25, 2012

The edge of dreaming....

Mourners sooth themselves 
saying ‘she looks like she is asleep,’ 
as if sleep were some metaphor 
for death. Oh, she is resting. Biding 
her time. She will wake with the Lord. 
Sleep is not like death. 
It has nothing in common with such
morbid permanency. It does not drag you 
under like a drowning victim, or force you 
into a deep dark hole. It opens a door 
and holds that door. As if it were a gentleman, 
and you were a lady. And like a lady, you
thank sleep. You walk through the door, 
and close it. And you dream.

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