Through her final hour he gently clasps
the icy silence of her pallid hand,
her plea to keep him close. She stirs and gasps.
The end is near. He doesn’t understand.
Inside the room the beeping grows intense.
He rises, goes for help into the hall,
and looks about him, lost and seeking sense,
then squints and sees he’s not alone at all
His spirit climbs to meet her, tall and strong.
He smiles to find belief in prayer can cure,
and cries, At times it’s good to be so wrong.
Passing thoughts don’t make him feel unsure,
although she lies in there while standing here,
and though she calls him Dad instead of Dear.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Who Killed the Clancy Children?
After a Massachusetts jury failed to convict Lindsay Clancy of strangling her three small children to death…
A Terrible Coarsening
The now-ubiquitous terms “reproductive health” and “reproductive freedom” have contributed mightily to a slaughter of the innocents…
The Stench of Corruption
The Trump family’s exploitation of every opportunity to enrich themselves demoralizes me, as I’m sure it does…
