Bedside

You sleep.

I watch,

clutching Winnie-the-Pooh.

It took courage

to put my feet on the bare floor

(where the monsters under the bed

could grab them),

to inch my way down the hall

(as quiet as possible – don’t disturb any

dozing devils)

to stand next to your side of the bed.

Curling toes into carpet,

an anchor in monochrome light,

your face half in shadow,

yet beautiful, familiar,

an antidote to the poison of imagination,

the demons that lurk in the dark.

Heartbeat slows

as your chest rises and falls,

peaceful, safe.

Not alone.

Not abandoned.

Not scared anymore.

Now,

I sleep.

You watch,

from 20 years and a world away.

Every night in my dreams

the same voice, the same face,

still soothing me.

Some nightmares never go away.

For my mother, August 26, 2020