by Ethel Mortenson Davis
I will sneak
up on you
like I do
on a wild animal,
just to get
a far away glimpse.
I will give you
time to get close,
or run away,
if you need to.
Last night
in my telling dream,
you came to me
to shake my hand,
and then we did
a secret hand shake,
and you broke apart
into a million pieces.
Here, touch
my soul
one last time
before you leave.
copyright, White Ermine Across Her Shoulders, 2011
fourwindowspress 
The visitations of the Holy Spirit spray out like myriad starbursts in my soul’s memory!
“Telling dream” – I love that phrase, and the other-worldly visit of this person/being in your dream – so poignant and heart-aching.
Dignity is so often accompanied by cold and distance. This is a dignity of softness and love. I hear the depth and wise acceptance of your experience, Ethel. Bless you.
Oh Ethel, I heard and felt the longing in your beautiful words … the sorrow of acceptance of the dear one lost … and the love that transcends … (((hugs)))) xoxox
Ghostly, haunting, loving…
We are so dependent on deep connection, it must go beyond our mortality. Sad and lovely, Ethel. You shared your heart and soul.
The first two stanzas of this poem seem to be referring to, or responding to, the telling dream…pleading for a glimpse, a touch, a sense of anguish and longing. What was the secret hand shake? A child-like, playfulness…a memory. And then, gone…but the longing remains.