The Phantom Poem by Beach Leanbh

I dreamt at night of her spectral visage.
Silhouetted against a cobblestone hut,
her feet bare, buried in the dry grass.
I knew it was only her shade,
for in her transparency, I throughsaw the mud of the house -
cracking between the stones, replete with straw and weeds.

Her toes flicked as she bent and plucked a wildflower.
Gently tore it from the earth and placed it in her hair.
She laughed silently.
Everything silently.
The deadness mocking me in invisible whispers.
She stretched her arms skyward and twirled.
White and yellow blurring around,
her dress flowing around her body, always just behind her hips,
racing to catch up. Dancing with her in perfect meter.

Her hair mottled on her face as she fell into a heap.
A multitude of black strands wisping across her pale face,
like streams fanning into the ocean.
She floated back to her feet and swept her hair from her eyes.
Eyes that stared back at me.
Back through me.

I ran to her on impulse. Grabbed at her hands.
Her soft cheeks, her waist. All phantoms -
untouchable, unreachable.
Then she whispered something to me.
Still silent, but I knew what she said and had heard it a thousand times.
It was in that instant I knew I was dreaming.
Knew I could never hold her in this place.

And so I woke. As I always woke.
The sheets wrapped around my legs as I reached over,
felt the empty crease beside me, and wept.