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poem submitted to "Thousand Watt Smile," poetry contest, Miranda Hawley, sponsor, 6/18/2026
I sat beside Pop, plainly seeing how his stroke had taken so much~ his body slack in ways that broke my heart. He lay still as a winter pond, unable to care for himself, hands folded, breath a thin thread, his daily whistling a memory. His silence opened like a vast, pale sky, holding both ache and something brighter, a quiet radiance rising where his words once lived. His silence held more than sorrow—it held a depth I could almost touch as if his spirit had stepped forward to speak for him. But his silence was anything but mystical—it was earthly, hard and heavy~ a reminder of everything he could no longer say or do. But that steady, unbroken smile rose each day to greet me~ because smiling and loving me was something he could still do.
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