A Requiem For What Could Have Been

Last night
I dreamt
Of my father’s death

The slow pathetic decline
Of a worthless man
Was reformed into
A noble sacrifice
A resilient stand against oppression
An act to be proud of

I knew I was dreaming
Yet I preferred to remain
Bamboozled and blinded
By the beautiful facade

In the dream
I wept freely
For a man
I understood
Cared about
And loved

In my memories
I grew distant
From a man
I didn’t understand
Care about
Or love

I woke conflicted

Are my dreams
Telling me
That my memories
Are fiction?

That the feelings
Felt in the facade
Are more fact
Than the fear
And confusion?

Or perhaps
I’m only questioning
Because
My reality was retched

And that dream
Like others of it’s kind
Are a requiem
For what could have been

---

This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken