I
"My Dad is Dying"
in lieu of an outlet,
the thick black letters
called out from angry white paper,
through time and space,
the message screamed
desperation and shook my core.
Stunned and confused,
I started to cry tiny tears.
And your heart broke
right before my eyes.
I couldn't reach out to you;
my arms longed to comfort you,
but I stood paralyzed.
My heart reaches out
and hopes yours finds peace.

II
I couldn't get closer to my friend.
He didn't know I had come to see him off,
to watch as he slipped from this chapter and into the next.
I stared at the had I wanted to touch,
too stiff to move closer, embarrassed by my inability.
I wanted to touch his arm and tell him how much he meant
to me, to all of us, how much he made me laugh.
Comfort. He gave me comfort and my chance had come.
The final chance to show the comfort he needed
and I couldn't even get past the threshold.
John died before I had found the courage.

III
Sweaters with faces
purple
H.R. Geiger's suggestive images,
"where have you been all my life"
you said, splitting my side,
a sunny note even on a dismal day.
Rosemary Clooney,
made up metal leg,
smiles.
Not really the niece of John Gotti.
It was nearly too much,
the cancer,
the absence.
The dolls and Spider-man,
they surrounded you,
you were at peace.
Cherished phone calls,
love.
And then you were gone.
Too soon.

IV
Thoughts pass through of loss,
of parents and friends of people
whose lives have become more
than my own, whose importance
lies in my inability to exist without.
I think of the time when I will face
this loss, wishing I could detach
and trying to melt away from me,
away from love and from fears.
The fears take over my love,
allow me moments of despair,
until I flick them away like bugs
and no longer think about loss,
until the next time it creeps back.

8.22.2008

08/22/2008

Posted on 02/20/2009
Copyright © 2024 Brian Fuchs