Journal Entry 6/13

Last night as I lay in my nest of feathered blankets and solitude,

The dead came by to visit,

Dancing with loves past, twirling in the golden light of Christmas lights,

Smiling into those brown eyes I missed so much, Jaccob smiled and kissed my hand,

Gailen stopped in on his way elsewhere, taller than I remember and healthy,

Free drinks and free burgers, they are playing pool in the halls of Valhalla,

Shifting and sliding through images of memory and fantasy, the slideshow of my lifetimes coalescing before me,

The magician was there, his one eye flashing untold mystery that he would not divulge, playing a game of smoke and mirrors,

Jeff was knitting in the corner, one of his famous winter hats, complaining that the music was too loud but he tapped his feet along with the beat,

Teaka was shy, but shared my fries, dancing on four legs better than I could on two,

The room was hazy, the edges obscure, and in the curtain of this grayness there were others I could not see,

They watched and said nothing, refusing to reveal their identity to lamp light,

It was raining outside, but warm in the hall, and I made a fire in the hearth where Jaccob lay,

There were others in the back room, those people I love who yet still lived, but I was dancing with the dead in the glow of smiles,

Once I attempted to draw them out, to urge them to sing along “Come meet Gailen” I said to the rabbit, but he scowled and turned away,

“Come see Jaccob” I said to the Jester, but he was busy dying the death of an addict,

“Is your father out there?” asked my mother, and I told her no. She turned away from me and exited out the back,

A man who’s face was obscured in shadow arose and took my hand “Show me” he said,

When we got back to the main room more people were there, Burgundy was laughing, she had all of her hair and Gailen was braiding flowers into it,

Michael was playing dress-up and insisted that we call him Madame,

The dancing was lithe and endless, fluid and easy, lifting me up till I was weightless with laughter, watching the show from the rafters above,

There was a pattern in the movement of bare feet on the floor boards, something important an just on the edge of my understanding,

I strove to decipher it’s message, but the more I tried the further it slipped away, I grasped after it like a slippery fish writhing in the river,

I was outside in the rain, where the droplets were warm and smelled like plumeria, I looked back to see the others gallivanting behind lit window panes,

It saddened me to leave, but I knew my visit was brief, I could not stay at the party of the dead,

I began to sing to myself as I walked away, past houses I remembered vaguely, groves I once played in, and a trail appeared through blackberry bramble,

I found myself looking down on me in my repose, bare butt poking from the cover of blankets, drooling on a pillow of gray silk, cocks beginning to crow beneath the palm trees outside,

For a moment I didn’t want to wake, I felt the ache of loss for those I left behind, twirling and laughing, oblivious to the pains of living,

I longed to find my way back, to dance the time away with those who loved me and lost me, but I knew better,

They had paid their dues, I must now pay mine,

With a sigh I walked toward my sleeping form, wondering how to rejoin my fragile body with a soul so powerful, how would it fit?

I awoke suddenly, I had tears in my eyes and flashing disjointed images were branded on my eyelids,

I could not make a poem of it, the beauty and confusion refused to be captured with words of rhyme,

So I put it down here, so I could at least recall slightly, the night I danced with the Dead.

 

 

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