In the Belly of the Whale

Today I received word:

It's time to start.
Start, what does that mean
when there is no end?
It's grief; it goes on and on
until we don't anymore.

He weighs less than I did
before I had a baby growing in me,
but the difference is
he's a foot taller.
His top denture falls into his mouth;
it blocks the words that try
to force their way out,
but I knew long ago
those words will never come.

Your brother says
you seem to be living in the distant past,
and I'm not sure what's there,
but I hope it's my mom
and your old camera
and water,
lots and lots of water,
with a footpath
leading to peace.



(Got word today that my dad continues to decline. It's not a big surprise, but still, the tears refuse to stop tonight.)