submerged (or under the surface)

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
>

.
.
.
.
.
now has come the day,

when you know,,,

he knows,,,

it will be the last time....

seems like it should be

memorialized

never to be forgotten

this last time.

when this day

exceeds it's already esteemed place--

almost monumental:

honor the father.

and how do you give----how do you give---

what he really wants....

to live just a little longer

to be just a little longer

to live and be able to breathe again--just a little longer

and, this is not in my power to give

so...

i come empty handed...

could not find the last gift

so--

i give him

what i always give him

my arms

around him

holding him

kissing his cheek

and

i cannot really speak

what can really be said?

i love.

he loves.

his voice is gone...

and i am mute in the knowing....

and

mother talks nervously

gliding on the surface

discussing

the weather...

and we sit....

submerged in our own realities

i feel lost,

(as i normally do, no sister to guide me now...)

knowing i should do more...

but know not what

he...sits silent

not able to speak over mother's

continuous voice....

what words would he speak

so...mother talks

dad and i listen

and i wait,

for my hug goodbye

and hang on tight, tight, tight....

for that is all i want to remember

and hope he knows

how much i love him,

this last time....

under the surface.

submerged.