Gone Away

I want him to stay.
I beg him to stay.

His soul is at the window,
Hanging on by fingertips.

Coaxed inside,
He lays in the bed.
It will get better, I say.
He doesn’t believe me.

I’m there after dusk.
He is there,
in the bed,
Awake, and angry and anxious.
What the hell, he asks.
A month gone from home,
Leaves gone green to dead.
What the hell.

I am there
in the morning haze.
He lays in the bed.
I ask him to smile.
He does.
He says her name.
He holds my hand.
OK.

I am there,
Standing in sun.
He lays in the bed.
He holds my hand tight,
Because I ask him to.
I look in his eyes.
I see him in there.
He can’t get out.

I am there,
in hallway light.
He lays in the bed.
His body is filled with fever.
Taking a cloth to his head,
I see his eyes,
Filled with questions, sorrow.
I hold his hand.

I am there,
but not there.
He lays in the bed.
His eyes are open,
But they don’t see me there.
He doesn’t know me,
Anymore.
I hold his hand.

Today when I see him,
Laying in the bed,
I will tell him to leave.
It’s OK,
It’s time for him
To find peace.

He is gone.

I hold his hand to
My wet cheek
And kiss him goodbye.



For my Dad, who is a part of the light that made us all.