Dear Dream

Please rest.
No more digging, store the shovel
in the shed until spring. No dredging
corpses of regret, no changing the past,
let’s move forward.

No more digging up, leave skeletons
in the closet until we move. There’s
no need to remind me that buried things
are alive with maggots creeping over
dirty secrets I wish I never knew.

No more prying, leave the coffin lid
down, leave it locked like two padlocks
on my heart; shattered shards heaped
in my left ventricle if shuttered, will
heal in shadowed eaves.

Please, let it go, let it fly off,
no need to keep anything (anyone)
here who longs to be elsewhere (me).
It’s hard to hide my grimace when you
show me bullet casings lodged in a
basement door, play the soundtrack
of a creaking casket lid, wake me
to the stench of horror when I beg you
to take me to a tropical island, invite me
to lounge on a beach, let me fall in love
with birdsong carried on soft breezes.

Please, leave me be, allow me time
and space to forget dark memories,
wrenching snapshots of bitter words
and slammed endings; let silence be
my companion until I can breathe again.

Please,
Dream,
let me rest.

~ J R Turek
June 26, 2021 Hour 4