Talking to the dead

In the dreams
The dead are resurrected
Seem none the worse for dying
Seem younger, happier
Laugh more, speak more
Sitting in the same chair
When they visit
Carrying on a conversation
As if it never ended
Offering sage counsel
Like they used to
To do what is required now
Without wringing your hands
Over what is past
Seem to have no complaints
Answer questions of where
They have gone
With a cryptic
'On the other side
Of this dream'
As if sensing your unasked question
Of why he went away
Without a goodbye
To his pet daughter
Father asks where is the need
For a farewell when
There is never any leaving

Love dishonoured

Think of the times
I may have been shadowed by death
In the womb, as a newborn,
Growing up half-fed,
Worrying, the school doors
Could be shut anytime
If I was stalked,
Always under watch
Lest my heart
Gave me wings
A whiff of the sky
Till one day, like the first woman
Listening to the whispers of life,
I did eat the forbidden fruit
Crossing a blood bar
That abhorred miscegenation
And brought their wrath
Upon our heads;
This time those fell wings
Flapped so close
When they dishonoured my love
Bloodied my own garden
I lost all fear of death
Or father, or family or God.

Maze

In this house
Nothing is lost
But little can be found;
Those who have died
And disappeared
Refuse to leave
Seem to be present everywhere
As unseen guests;
Even in these few hundred feet
Mother loses her way
To the prayer room,
Says either the gods are
Playing hide and seek
Or the things
Which cannot sleep
Move from room to room
Hoping for shut-eye somewhere
Leaving behind a labyrinth;
I know the maze is elsewhere
Made when things became 
Thicker than blood
The distances were allowed to grow
Till the trails went cold
And there was no way to tell
Where home was