All of the wee folk of my youth
grew up to become the Angels of my now.
They no longer scare me and
we speak lively when we’ve the chance.
Often, I listen to their council
and regret it sure when I don’t.
I kept them rather busy as a child
rescuing me from the fires of Gahanna.
Where as once we were mischievous and bold
now they are my councilors and we are old.
“Remember that time…” I hear one say.
“Yes, and that other time…”
“How did we ever survive?!” I cheek.
In dreams, in dreams, in dreams…. They reply.
©️Mark W. Ó Brien
08Apr2022
I love this poem. The saying is that "Time heals all wounds" but it should say "Dream time heals all wounds" because dreams help us to process the realities of life, they buffer us against the acute pain and help to ease the shock and tragedy of loss. In dream sleep our guards are down, we are real, there is no trying to be brave or strong, we just are..
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