Dreams

Of Sylvia

My daughter was in my dreams two night past
At college now, there are days I grieve my loneliness.
And think how foolish, stop this.
My life was built around her tiny hand in mine.
You would think each night dream would be of her
But, no, just there two nights ago, after three months away.
And I felt anxious. Suffocating and woke gasping.
Images of not really having made her ready enough to meet the dangers
In life, these were in my flashes of insight.

I put on my little lamp and looked out into my room.
Alone with these fears. That my daughter was not safe.
In the morning I couldn't reach her by phone.
It's mildly ironic as this was the recurrent nightmare I've had for
Twenty some years about her father, and in many ways she is his image.
She is very hard to catch, well, like a moonbeam. Cliche but so.
She left me an email this morning, a cry in her dark.
Her friend  at school bled to death internally in the night,
Some horrific collapse at their school that no one could understand
And I thought of the dream, and how hard it is
For me to protect her from this awful pain.


Little one she was so hurt when characters in her books suffered.
I tried to pluck those books away from her
Stone fox still hangs in the air as a story that she felt so deeply.
In my daughter my capacity for empathy and pain, joy and dreaming found companion
She has gone to her school that is popped from Potter's
And death struck like a viper but I cannot
Pull this volume away, she's read it now
I can't take this kind of knowing from her or shield it.

On the phone this tiny distracted frightened voice said
Bravely , "He was so kind and loved by everyone,
there was no one that did not speak so well of him, mummy."
And you want to encapsulate this in some grand wisdom, design,
Some truth and all I could say was I had no reasons.
The first time I ever saw her bleed she cut herself on a metal train toy
That I threw away brashly and instinctively called it "Bad."
To distract her. And it got to me. I've seen this so much
With three children and teaching but that tiny cut on her finger got to me.
Syl was so shocked and looked at it in horror.
This thing hurt me, how could this happen?

This thing, this nightmare hurts her, how can such a thing happen?
How can such a good child go away like this?