Memory is no stranger
in the house of sleep.
It comes as a visitor
for a reunion.
If a private occasion,
with the family
Or else with those forgotten
who have long been gone.
The waiting house is ready
for us to gather.
Together or separately
our memories meet.
Waking in the night,
I have wondered where I am
Knowing I have been away
and not yet returned.
I lie still and wait
between absence and presence
Conscious of being witness
to my sleep and wake.