She dreamed her son’s death
the night
the hour
it happened.
I was told this
a matter-of-fact parcel
of anguish and awe
and my body
expanded to allow
for it to be true.
For days
I walked
holding the space
for this wonder
this faith that my soul
is as irrefutable
as my lungs
that Carl Jung was right
a collective subconscious
throbs in between us
loud and dizzy
lobbing messages
our way.
A few more days
the space is caving in
like a sagging balloon
and I want to hold on
to stay afloat
in the mystery
but I have work to do
book club
a duvet cover to return
and it hurts a little
holding myself agape
in the immensity
of belief.