The Dream

It is so dark, but not cold.
An alive darkness
With form and weight;
The backdrop of all dreams.
I hear my niece screaming, screaming
For her mother.
I go to her, find her,
See her huddled in the blackness,
Crying for her Mom.
Touching her,
Rubbing her back,
Soothing her,
I say,"Let's see if we can find your Mom."
I look up and over there,
In the darkness, too weak from her illness to come to her child,
Is my sister. We go to her.
My niece climbs into her mother's lap
And the humming,
Seemingly tuneless, begins.
Arms around her child,
Bald head bowed protectingly
Over her young daughter,
They cuddle together in the darkness;
A bright beacon of light to me.
I fall back to sleep
Watching my sister and my niece,
Cradled together as one,
Glowing with warmth
Against the pitch blackness,
Comforting one another with love
In the darkness,
Memories of another
Mother and child
Lulling me to sleep.