The Dream

There was that dream in which 
I led my white-haired mother 
out of a labyrinth of spears—
we crouched behind boulders
as spectres patrolled the field.
When I woke, I was so sure
it meant her coming death.
But when I think about it again 
now, and remember how her face
shone as she looked back at me,
I'm not so sure anymore who was
the guide, who was being led.