Morning Wraith

“Death came for me

In the dark of an early winter’s morning.

Gently, she took me along a path

Leading in the direction of a distant cottage.

No incarnate form or hooded manifestation,

Only her presence nearby to lead me

Beside the dark, meandering, indecipherable river.

Illuminated by the light of night only,

The path, hard pack, traced the river’s contours,

Its water running smooth, almost still, slow and black

But for the reflected shimmer of morning stars.

In the distance a cottage, trimmed in lichen,

Seductive and filled with the regret

Of those who had passed.

And night’s end now approaching,

Ahead, cloaked in shifting mist,

A dim carriage light aside the cottage door.

Faint chimes beyond, insistent.

Abruptly, an unspoken urgency to return … now

… chimes fading, distant, fading, fading,

A silent lament beyond the bed, beyond sleep,

A dream perhaps.”

—C. Geoffrey Baker

By late 2022, three years after beginning a surgical odyssey, I had finally processed an experience that changed my very existence and has haunted me since, probably because I had failed to address it fully until enough time elapsed. Recounted above is my memory as it occurred in the early morning hours a day after emergency surgery (February 23, 2019). I recall the detail with clarity, having resolved at the time, and since, to commit it carefully to memory. It was ethereal though quite unlike other dreams I’ve had.