SON OF A BUCK  by Beth Haist

You are just out of reach,
Yet, I got to be there,
To ramble and grab words out-of-your-mouth-
To smooth back your hair  and  whisper
Repetition– of protection,
Knowing this proxy could not come close to what you gave in a lifetime–
I held her as she crumbled-
Asking me over and over,
to tell you everything
she couldn’t–
this last frantic knowing,
She didn’t have time to dress-
Just a thin summer top and shorts
,that August seventh
hospital so cold,
And unrelenting-
Already a toe tag,
On a father,who I knew was still there-
I felt him,
Waiting and waiting-
Holding on for my mother,
as long as he could-
My head on his chest,
A warm blanket
given …
A unknown priest
who unlike me,
his role,
He was quick,
in &
Calming the air
With latin
Thousands of years old,
Appropriate for two souls
Never meant to be separated,
Ending in a room
— not big enough to contain him-
I felt his energy-
Charging ahead,
With such palpable
He didn’t fade..
He didn’t acquiesce,
He left that day,
Like he lived his life,
A peaceful