Dead People
(for Rachel Johnson)
Finally, she said, nobody tells you that the
people you love most deeply
don’t die. They live on in you and in your dreams.
She saved this until last, this secret.
Well, it’s not really a secret but we don’t talk about it much.
It’s complicated
like trying hypnosis, when you want to quit smoking. You can’t
just walk out
of a session and then light a cigarette. Everything in life is
work.
You have to help those dead people out by helping them in.
Use their favourite expressions.
Keep their pyjamas.
Recycle her red-striped bus pass holder.
Keep a hand-written envelope in your drawer.
Say their name out loud.
Drive that old Lincoln into the ground.
Take the diamond ring out of the safety deposit box
and wear it like a gangster.
And as for the dreams:
Do not rush to sleep.
Instead, leave a space between brushing your teeth
and saying goodnight to the sky. Surrender the day.
So there is time for your heart to heal and wander.
Be grateful for night vision.
And if their visit is ragged, or clumsy, or if they go AWOL,
don’t read too much into it.
Give them leeway and trust – and cry if you must.
Everyone has bad days.
Maybe it’s not that easy on the other side.
Candyce
Lange
If you have any thoughts about this poem,
Candyce Lange
would like to hear them
