Atypically, she was alone
and silent,
wig askew,
all the muzak shut away
behind her half-closed door.
I knew that she had also drawn
the blinds within her mind,
to soften the impetuosity
of joy.
She struggled
to pull back the thoughts
that like a child
would run away too soon--
reminding me again
that all the "simple things"
she ever thought or said
elude her;
then the love that she had stored within
emerged to let me hear her say,
"I am so thankful
for my family."
Her 97th year, a time
for facing new goodbyes,
new deaths in her to come,
that we will string upon the fraying tie
that flesh alone will bind.
Then in parting our embrace extended
past my equanimity; I stepped inside
the elevator, closed the door,
and thus once parted from her
struggled unsuccsessfully
to don my streetwise smile.
~
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