Like some ship
coming into port
in deep fog
sleep barely lifts 
but gives way 
as I move 
from bedding deep 
into kitchen reef
of fragile cups
and the whistle 
of the kettle 
a fog horn 
from the lighthouse 
says it’s done 
time for coffee 

It’s days 
not nights 
that haunt
must do 
keep distracted 
or those 
memories come 
like the 
postman down 
the lane 

I couldn’t be 
here had I
never been there 
and there has 
always been where 
I was going 
that was until 
I got here 

We all feel 
the same sun
see the same 
moon and wish
upon the same 
stars how can 
anyone therefore think 
that we’re different 

I now know 
that we dream 
what the mind
thinks when asleep 
what the soul 
has known all
along and that
it finally comes 
when the heart 
has found forgiveness 
dreams that once
agitated find peace