On my latest nightmare and windows

 I was having the strangest dream

And in my absolute loneliness and confusion

This little poem came to me

As a song one would sing to soothe oneself

It just came to me like this new form of sleepwalking and it was born whole

"I always mistook the word 'widow' for the word 'window'

It was always a bit funny to me 

How one little letter can change the meaning of an entire word

But now I think it makes sense 

Being a widow is like being a window 

A heart shattered so open that allows wind and hail into yourself, into your home 

Being a widow is starring through or out of a window 

Always disappointed by how empty and lonely the rest 

Of the landscape looks

I see myself on those windows and all the windows in me 

And the widow in me still weeps at her reflection

But I'm back thinking about words again 

How perhaps window and widow are the same word 

Just for different kinds of pain 

And a window, that big eye of my bedroom, may have the same meaning 

They were sister words 

But one of them was in complete silence, every sound strangled out 

As the other, holding on to that one silly extra letter, still uttered and gagged trying to get that "No" out 

That shriek of complete agony that would bring Him back to life 

"No. No. N... N...N..."

I'm a window."