The Tribute

There are not enough words to describe The devotion and compassion this poet's eyes beheld. It was a plain room arranged for safety, comfort, and care. A fine bantam table re-purposed with medical supplies for any emergent unplanned surprise. An unexpected large bed filled the back right corner of the room. Creating a barrier for an unsteady walk. Soft pillows surrounded a determined man, bent over, straining to stand, wanting to rise. Pursuing some task, he had left undone. Desperate for freedom, confused, lost in time. Unaware of the witnesses standing aside, A woman gently wrapped her arms around the man. Intertwined fingers completed a tender restraint. Whispering, begging him to stay, Seated beside him protecting the man. This was a path I had walked before. I knew it so well as I stood near the door. Felt the terrible anguish of another parting too soon. As a daughter held her father. How unfair it seems to separate this pair. Why must we rip ourselves apart? As life starts closing doors. What is this path we walk down carrying flowers with thorns? This cruel bitter loss felt by all as the daughter anointed the man with a gentle touch. Reposing her head against his thin shoulder to encouraging his rest. My heart wanted to hold her, lessen her pain, Offer her hope, ease the load. But it was her watch to stand. I recalled my own dark watches of the night. The wretched tearing of the soul. The desperate need to hold on, Knowing the need to let go. This was the daughter's obeisance to give away. All that she was, her loving tribute will ever remain. As a daughter released her hold on the man.