She comes to me in my dreams sometimes. Like last night—
Jim and I traveling on foot
like refugees, or pilgrims amidst so many others searching, hoping to find—what?
We weren’t home, weren’t on familiar turf, there were open-air markets, tents and camps. I was standing on the path, a dirt road.
Out of the throngs of seekers
appeared the face of my mother—I spotted her instantly, her face young, no make-up, natural, beautiful,
her stride radiating strength, confidence, courage. In ecstatic disbelief, I went to her,
amazed that out of all the places all the people, against all odds we found each other.
She comes to me in my dreams sometimes. Back in my childhood home again
Mom and I both grown women her timid, tenuous hugs
now only a wisp of memory left in my body an echo of my little girl longing
palpable and exquisite.
A tenderness, unexpected and overwhelming, sweeps over me and we come together in our first-ever full-body embrace loving each other wholly, deeply, unreservedly,
nothing held back—
an unhindered, uncharted, unprecedented love. “Mama, Mama,” I murmur so softly it is barely audible, as if my words can seal an infinite bond
of continuous, everlasting love, immutable, inviolable, indomitable. Our connection runs deep, runs true,
the pact between our bodies tangible and transcendent. I am here for her and she is here for me.

Cathy Dana is an Alameda poet. The above poem won first place in the Benicia Love Poetry Contest.

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