You came to me in a dream,
But I failed to remember
Your gaunt face, half-hidden in the moonlight,
Dappled by the shadows of
Gnarled trees, their dark leaves
Falling like rain, in the passing of the wind.
You spoke to me in a dream,
But I failed to recall
Your deep voice drowned by the cry of
A wolf, deserted in these dim woods
Where you dig hallowed graves,
Under the eaves of crumbling angels’ wings.
You beckoned to me in a dream,
But I froze when I recalled your face
From my days as a child, when we played trees,
And I climbed up your knees,
And you raised me to your cheeks,
Now, hollowed, unkissed.
You sang to me in a dream,
And I remembered. Your melancholy voice,
Echoing in the void, reminiscent of the many nights
You hummed me to sleep, with your song of a man
Who hurled questions at the stars
And sought answers from the wind.
I asked you in a dream,
Where have you been? Where have you gone?
Why are you digging graves until the crack of dawn?
You tilted your face, smiled, looked up to the stars
And threw your answer to the wind
When it broke into a song.
Mia Corazon Aureus is an MA Creative Writing graduate student at Singapore’s Lasalle College of the Arts. She has recently published a travel piece on Argentina, published in the online journal, Wanderlust. Originally from Quezon City, Philippines, she is also working full time as a commodity market reporter in Singapore. In writing stories of her memories of home and life as a woman migrant worker, she hopes to find her space and voice in the Asian/international literary scene.