His Last Words

My father was too weak to parry the blade

As death's scythe swept through the house one night

When we were busy doing other things

Dust filled his mouth and stopped his breath

And darkness took his soul in this familiar placeHis body, wasted by the sickness

His spirit weary from the battle

He spoke to me, forever his son

Of all things save death:

I longed to face it with him

But seeing his fear

I feared to speak of itAnd though we both saw death's dark irresistible form

In the far corner

We talked instead of evening shadows

On bedroom wallsAnd so it went

There were no proud and profound last words

No bright ringing final moment of clarity

He just died

We kissed his still warm face

And promised forever