From far away came a sound - familiar - it was the sound of a human weeping; but where was it coming from? I  searched the room I was in for this summoning notion. The walls were off white and bare. There is not enough light to see. I feel a quickening sense of panic. The air is stale and hot. I can feel my throat closing as my lungs collapse. Then with clarity I realize it was myself that boar this tone . The noise did not come across my lips but from my soul. I felt it push through me like radiant energy in to the air. I felt almost relieved that I had located this meaningless noise. The relief only lasted an instant, then the voice became rough and jagged; a  haunting squeal of pain. Yet I was free from injury and disease....was it in my head? I tried to call for help but there was no one. I was alone and the room was growing dimmer still. I don't think it possible to convey the full extent my fear at this moment.  Abstaining from motion, subdued and muted, I whimpered from my lips. I am mumbling earnest appeals to God to save me from this immense hurt.  All at once my eyes spring open to find my love holding me tight, caressing my skin and telling me it was just a dream.  A dream, how can that be? Such true raw feelings that only served to remind me of the pain I feel during my waking hours. The pain that screams "Your brother is dead" over and over again.


kah 03/20/02
The setting is familiar, it's your kitchen.
I look around and decide to sit at the table.
I feel your presents here.
I see myself sitting there at your table.
I am no longer one person but two.
There is me who watches everything
and the me at the table.
I look up and there you are sitting across from me.
I can see us both sitting on the bench seats.
It appears we are having a conversation
but I can make out the words.
You laugh and offer me a beer.
Expensive, good stuff too. It's so cold to my lips.
I can feel it in my hand, the perspiration of the bottle.
Is this real? It can't be, you not really there - neither am I.
We continue our mute conversation.
What are you saying? I can't hear you.
At once I realize there is a gun beside you.
I am trying to tell the me at the table to see it,
to tell you to stop, but I can't.
You pick up the gun still laughing and put it to your head.
The barrel is press hard against your right temple.
I can see you skin sink in from the pressure.
Why can't the me at the table see this?
As I scream a silent "No!" you look at me.
Not the me at the table, but me.
I see directly in your eyes, so empty and tired.
Then you pull the trigger and I wake.

kah 04/23/02
These Poems are a collection of dreams had by me following my brothers death. Please do not use all or parts of my work without permission.