Dream About My Mother

I hold you in my arms 

while you are dying.

We are lying on your bed together.

The pillows are puffed like clouds 

and the blanket covers us like bath water.

Your labored breathing quiets itself

into a steady, shallow rhythm.

A harpist is  playing, her fingers

making music with the air between the strings.

You ask me where we are.

“We are in The Palace of Tranquil Longevity with

Qianlong, the Chinese Emperor.

He is bringing you your favorite foods

and your favorite books.  He has red flowers

with the scent of Byzance and he has plucked

one petal to dab behind your ear.”

In a whisper, you tell him about the good years

of your life and the friends who loved you, 

and Qianlong listens and says,

“I am happy you are ending with good recollections.”

Around the palace, the work is stopping.

Everyone is listening for your breath.

© Evie Safran, 2015

The Emperor's Garden
in the Palace of Tranquil Longevity complex
Photo by Francisco Anzola
from Wikimedia Commons