FUNERAL

FUNERAL
(FOR MY FATHER)

Did we ever meet, connect, Daddy?

Did our souls collide?

Your folded arms across your chest
Somehow don’t seem quite so stern.

But I hear my mother crying, and I must away.

While they close the lid, I’ll close my eyes
And think how you suffered in silence on sterile sheets,

Your fragile life held in place by useless gadgets,
Death prolongers.

And when I’m home
And only then,
I will cry for you,
For things I never did or said.

And wonder to myself
If the mystery of life finally got to you,
As right now it gets to me.

Whenever I remember those pale hands,
Those closed eyes, those last rites.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 1983
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED