Sunday, November 01, 2015

March 2, 1999

I slept soundly,
head sunk into
a cool, feathered pillow.

The morning sun,
soft and bright
gently roused me,
bestowing upon me
the sweet blessing
of disorientation.

Nothing stuck in my mind,
I just enjoyed the warmth
and softness of my father's bed,
not remembering why
I was there.

In an instance,
I remembered,
and it obliterated my peace,
and nothing was ever
the same.

So, I got up,
summoning all my strength
and praying with every exhale,

the morning after
my father died
from a heart attack.

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