FEEL THE WHITE PARCHMENT
In Memoriam Father
26.01.12 - 28.04.07
flailing in the breeze of death
you go forward to greet them.
We see you now after half an hour,
phone call at
7.30, dispensed with life
at last. You lie proper as if in a shell of parchment.
I can see you have gone now to
your own world,
preparedness now done and this scene for our eyes.
The gait of your frame as if beckoning to life
but all is now quiet.
we see the throng of onlookers and prepare ourselves
forward into this journey for the
second time in my days.
feel the white parchment which contains the details
of you, feel the white parchment with
the feeling of
later you look composed as if in a picture
but taut like a Waxman in your confines,
dressed in familiar.
I now write about you months after and still
see you there in your gait that was, trimmed
in your suit with gifts.
Now your absence is loud in our ears
and your visibility is compromised in its
Will this silence ever come to a halt?
It resounds each day of your day between
our two worlds.
as if by mercy, it came to a stop
but only you can know the real reason,
I would say.
Seen and done, you impressed
with your being and many remember you.