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
