Pick me up in my dream tonight,
Lead me home through quiet halls of light,
Where sorrow cannot follow,
Where echoes do not weep.
Welcome me beyond the veil,
Where gold bends beneath weary steps.
Let me rest beside You,
While below, my mother lingers,
A figure draped in mourning,
Hands trembling over a name
She will never call again.
I have left her with the ghosts of joy,
I have torn the sun from her sky,
With love spilled from open veins,
Drop by drop,
Like rain that never reaches the earth,
Like autumn leaves too heavy to dance,
The last breath of fading stars.
If only the dead could speak,
If only breath could slip through silence,
I would press my voice into the wind:
“Forgive me, mother.”
“I love you, always.”
Pick me up in my dream tonight.
For the war has quieted in my marrow,
And the sword I have carried, heavy with grief,
Lies rusted at my feet.
Let me fold into the roots of the Tree of Life,
Let the sun warm my hollow chest,
Let my lashes kiss the light one final time,
And as my breath unspools into nothing,
As my body bends to ash, to dust, to light,
I am home.
