. . . but the year’s been a long one
with so much disease raging
and my six year old needing
everything that six year olds need
that my heart and mind have not been strong enough.
I have not been allowed to see my dad
since last winter
and now it’s winter again
and suddenly, this week, they said I could come.
Goggles, rubber gloves, and surgical mask.
He didn’t recognize me at the door
even after I took off the PPE.
My hair has gray waves
and is down to my shoulders.
My beard thick with sadness.
I didn’t recognize him either.
A living skeleton.
I was amazed that he was able to stand and walk.
I think we were both in shock.
I don't think he fully understands the pandemic.
I don't think he understood
why I wasn't able to come to him for so long.
My heart breaks at what he must have thought.
We sat so quietly through the weekend
as the snow drifted down from dark skies.
A more gentle and kind skeleton
you will never know.
When we said goodbye he said your visit
was like a yellow ray of sunshine.
I know this poem is rough
and I’m not sure why I feel so deeply
that I need to put it out into the world now
but I have not felt poetry in my heart and hands
for so long and after driving
across the dark prairie
with gray snow and bitter winds
home to my small home
with the half buried halloween skeleton
illuminated in the frozen garden plot
and all the loneliness
falling from everywhere
I had to write.
And now, it’s like I never left you.
.
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