They keep coming to me
in dreams.
Faces of times gone by,
places of yesterday.

Kindness on their face,
even those who did
the most disgrace,
have apology in their gaze.

As if to tell me-
go and be well
and leave behind
the ghosts of this space.

Things are kinder
in dreamland.

Conversations occur
that wouldn’t take place
in the cognizance of day-
where barriers
and images
and the distilled drift of time…
all bring a distance
not easily

But what may come in dreams?
Where love can be the frequency
and we leave behind our egos
and shells of physicality.
And let our minds meet,
while spirits greet,
and our soul’s
and mend
and entreat.

Wrapping up my loose ends
into complete,
I keep hearing those ghosts
so clearly-

I’m sorry.
Now go in peace.