Saturday, November 19, 2016


I have to write now
before it slips away
before you slip away

Dark wet night
the gray month of November
made black
by your impending departure

How to distill your eighty
your unique joi de vivre
your je ne sais quoi

Celebrating your love of words
and language and life
and how those french words helped you hang on
a few days longer

Your strong thick hands I still
want to hold - even though
they've wasted these 6 weeks
of your rapid slow fall off that cliff.

You continue to speak truth
even if it's difficult...
"it'll be over soon"
"I gotta get out of here"
as you try so hard to connect
to communicate, to really see
each one, names, places, roots, the whole, us.

Now you've gone
left us
the sun refuses to not shine
even as the last dried leaves
fall and blow.

It is supposed to be bleak
but all your gifts and care shine bright
undulled by your (and our)

Something endurable
safe for eternity.


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