Every Day I Hear One Of My Loved Ones Poem by Patti Masterman

Every day, I hear one of my loved ones
Call out my name; even though they're dead;
Gone away, to where we should never speak-
But still they keep on calling for me.

It makes me suspect all those years
When I thought I was doing things, just for them
They were really doing them for me;
That somehow I need to be needed
Even more than the dead need their rest.

And so my sleepless mind keeps them occupied;
And still they summon aid, at my behest.