9 November 2014
.
Your daughter feeds you. Baby
spoon lingers on pale lips, like
a question, I imagine, drifting
at the edge of your memory
.
as you search for me there–
a letter without a word,
folding, never touching itself–
aimlessly. The Elder gestures
.
for me to hold your hand.
I feel your dry skin open,
swallowing the wavering
unfamiliarity between us
.
as we pray. Our eyes are closed:
I am comforted by their shadows,
where distance is immeasurable.
You do not know me, or I,
.
you, who are related
only by the name
by which our pleas coalesce
then dissipate like vapour.
.
As the last of the Elder’s
words journey towards their destination,
I look up. Your eyes light up
as we say together, amen.