In My Dream....

I came looking for you in my dream.

I found the bed you had been sleeping in.

But you were gone.

They told me, the settlers, the pioneers who had been looking after you

that you had survived the massacre.

You had escaped with a young child 

so you were both alive

somewhere.

In the crumpled sheets of the bed 

I found a photograph

of you in a frame.

The black and white one you used to keep on your desk

of you as a toddler

with your quiff of curls

and chubby cheeks

and your bright round eyes 

and your sweet 

sweet smile.

You were laughing in that photo

your baby laugh.

All your innocence and

joy

 collected

in that laugh

in that one 

bright moment

long before 

you knew

 what was to come.

And I rescue this photo

from the crumpled sheets

all that is left of you.

Before they return 

and burn everything.

I carry this dream to my therapist.

And we tug it apart

its skeins of meaning

offered up from the

wisdom of the one

who showed it to me

in the night.

Till in the end 

I see that it is not you who is still alive

but it is the courage and

the  innocence 

and the joy 

in the child that you

rescued

that is still alive.

And it could be alive in me. 

In some

 bright moment

yet to come.

Your eternal gift 

to me.