EPIC Poem: Dream of Mending, by Peter Cabrera

I
I held your hand
in the cabin of my honda civic,
parked in front of my childhood home
three county lines away,
and you looked at me
from the drivers side
& you finally forgave me,
things are gonna be okay.
squeezing my hand with reassurance,
as if our palms were lips,
as if this promise was sealed with a kiss.

We studied botany together
under a sprawling tree,
branches skimming the edges of the sky,
green fingers tugging at the tendrils
clouds seep down to earth
reminding the clouds when
they were lovers too, &
begin to forgive each other again,
cloud and branches pulling a comforter
over the sun, signing it to sleep.

we rise and you ride my shoulders
along the park’s central lake,
lilies strewn across the surface,
like tiny pearls displayed on blue satin.
then we waded through the lake,
your thighs pressing my neck,
your ankles, secure in my hands,
your soul safe from the treacherous algae
winding its way around my ankles,
slithering up my thighs,
trying to find a way into my heart.

We dried off in my dorm.
I hung up your water logged clothes
drench in the lake and we lay together
our bodies chanting to ward off cold.
you looked to me in the
shade drawn dusk of my room,
and said I still love you.

The shock of that,
woke me.

II
I woke up
in a marsh morphing into mattress.
I refused to lose you again,
Forced my body back to dreamland
to guide myself into
the world we made,
Where we went to college,
Where branches caress our cheeks
to bless our reunion
Where wading through water
meant slipping on smooth stones,
algae gripping at my thighs
stealing sips of my soul,
ankles bitten by cottonmouths
lurking in the bowels of the lake
slipping venom into my exposed veins
On your behalf,
Where all it took was my shoulders to repair us.

but you know you can’t step
in the same river twice.
the story began the same
a long drive to campus
through pines and palms,
arriving with my friend
dripping rubies from her arm.
then I caught a glimpse
Of a Cherry Slush
Garnet blush
pixie-cut.

I tried to lucid dream you home.
I followed a map.
Its dream cartography
Directed me to a library of maps,
even one from WWII.
Eventually it lead me to
forgotten friends,
dead relatives,
But never you.

One night,
I finally found you.
After saying Hello,
you evaporated like dew,
after the few hours
it visits in the morning,
Except you dissipated immediately
Stealing little droplets of life
From our tree, the clouds,
and finally myself.

So as sunlight trickles in from the midday sun,
and I hear the din of my grandmother
heating her small black coffee pot.
Now I know in the land of dreams, you are actually me.
I have to Wonder: is this how it feels to forgive myself?