Going Home
Going home
He had come back different, or maybe he had never really come back at all.
It had changed him; now eyes withdrawn, furtive,
Looking out into someplace, somewhere within his own mind.
Even in sleep, never really at ease.
Twitchy with dreams and mumbled words.
Sometimes awakened, sitting but not really there.
Worsening as time unfolded,
Gripped in the mind and body,
Abetted by liquor and chemicals.
Counselors seen for the edginess, irritability, bad dreams.
The distances from family widened,
First gradual withdrawal, then full retreat.
No answers, only tears and anger.
Until now laid to rest.
David Holmes
March 5, 2021
A drizzly wind-swept day atop a hill;
The white markers with chiseled family names and dates to then surround him.
As they gathered in the wind,
The mournful plangent sound
Of the piper in kilt swept over them,
Bringing rest, bringing closure.
.
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