At last memory has what it looked for. It found
my mother, my father and brother sitting on the riverbank,
close to a bridge, under a cascade of periwinkle and water-
lilies -- a soothing Monet.
They were serene, so quiet after roaming from dream
to dream, after I rescued them from the contorted
ruins of a car or a collapsed bridge or a wreckage -- truncated,
they grew again upside down, wore a smiling mask
and their suffering slipped through my boneless fingers.
Last night, they came as they really are -- within a dream
but without dreams, free from pretensions, nodding
to themselves only. They shone and darkened
the perimeter outside them where I stood
letting my smile fall like a shy chirping.
I woke up and touched the world's dawn
like a silver frame.