hospice | a poem in my pocket

harvest coming

03 May 2021 31 Comments

The day my father died,

warm body barely cooled,

Holy Spirit nudged pastor

to visit; he offered prayer

as hearse driver waited.

We circled to hold hands

with hospice social worker,

asking God for His peace.

Pastor said, “Death is

like planting a seed…”

Linking to dVerse poets invited to write quadrille (44 words) on “seed” theme.

20 Sep 2019 2 Comments

he lost second wife
and i, two mothers;
bonded by love’s genes,
shared grief, shed tears.

dad called me to say,
“our twin towers have
fallen;” nine tremulous
months after 9-1-01.

first night in hospice,
last on earth, she reached
up to hug my brother’s
strong neck…her only son.

i’ve dreamed of mom
standing in the kitchen
smiling; she said to me,
“you’re going to be okay.”

dear mom, we bless,
honor and remember
you again today on your
(missed) 83rd birthday.

we revisit our sorrow
even as you celebrate
joyful life in his presence,
who claimed you as his own!