Athens, Georgia
July 9, 2009; revised March 5, 2015
1.
Last night I held your body
frail, light
limp from effort,
Until, finally, sleep
blessed comfort, sleep
deep sleep, deepening still
While I marked each hour of darkness
counting your breath
on the back of my hand
And your pulse in my fingertips
as steady through
the night
Breath eased, your heart
held, you still
here. Still.
2.
Early morning is my time
when the world turns fresh
and days open doorways –
To run the rolling land
Pressing breath against pain
cresting hills, clearing lungs,
the good earth passing fast,
to glide with Gaia,
Slow dancing tai chi in grass
bare feet stained green
finding balance
in fleeting moments
Feeling the free flow of time
rushing through my veins
still in the flush of strength, still
grasping for grace.
3.
In the vigor of youth you
held my premature
body gently, firmly
against death, and
carried me home.
Steady through the years you
loved one woman
well, and with her,
raised up family
to love and play.
You lived solid, you
completed duty
with discipline,
softening through
decades of devotion.
And in the stillness of age,
dear man, you
accepted decline
with dignity,
and in the letting go
found grace.
4.
I return to your side
one final time, where
forever now
we stand in sacramental hush
heads down, eyes
averted
in solemn witness, so
still, this world
in which I hold your worn-out body
vainly against death
and feel the final brush
of love in your sandpaper chin, still
warm yet now
against my salty face.
5.
You took your leave this summer morning.
6.
Now, early morning is our time.
I will carry you in my muscles
in my wind, in my balance
in my spirit
Until they, too, fail
and you, once again,
carry me
home.
Last night I held your body
frail, light
limp from effort,
Until, finally, sleep
blessed comfort, sleep
deep sleep, deepening still
While I marked each hour of darkness
counting your breath
on the back of my hand
And your pulse in my fingertips
as steady through
the night
Breath eased, your heart
held, you still
here. Still.
2.
Early morning is my time
when the world turns fresh
and days open doorways –
To run the rolling land
Pressing breath against pain
cresting hills, clearing lungs,
the good earth passing fast,
to glide with Gaia,
Slow dancing tai chi in grass
bare feet stained green
finding balance
in fleeting moments
Feeling the free flow of time
rushing through my veins
still in the flush of strength, still
grasping for grace.
3.
In the vigor of youth you
held my premature
body gently, firmly
against death, and
carried me home.
Steady through the years you
loved one woman
well, and with her,
raised up family
to love and play.
You lived solid, you
completed duty
with discipline,
softening through
decades of devotion.
And in the stillness of age,
dear man, you
accepted decline
with dignity,
and in the letting go
found grace.
4.
I return to your side
one final time, where
forever now
we stand in sacramental hush
heads down, eyes
averted
in solemn witness, so
still, this world
in which I hold your worn-out body
vainly against death
and feel the final brush
of love in your sandpaper chin, still
warm yet now
against my salty face.
5.
You took your leave this summer morning.
6.
Now, early morning is our time.
I will carry you in my muscles
in my wind, in my balance
in my spirit
Until they, too, fail
and you, once again,
carry me
home.
Beautiful poem. So vivid. So real. It brought me back to the moment of my father's transitioning to beyond. All the emotions that were stirring inside and became salt on my face. As always, thank you for your words.
ReplyDeleteLIFE