Last night, I dreamt of my son,
The beneficent smile,
His understanding of some of life’s lessons, Lessons that I have yet to learn.
And still, I did not see it.
His pain, the internal grimace.
His imagined call.
“Daddy, make it stop, make it stop.”
Come here, let me kiss it, I’ll make it better.
The internal judge always dragging him asunder,
Dragging me as well.
Like the ocean undertow.
Till he was swept out to sea.
I am and will be permanently lessened by the absence.
My boy, my, dear dear boy.