The Damage Can Fester Under

Who Would Have Thought Something That Happened That Long Ago Could Have Such Power?

Last Night It Had Been My Father Who Had Finally Said It: "she’s Never Coming Home." A Clear And Easy Piece Of Truth That Everyone Who Had Ever Known Me Had Accepted. But He Needed To Say It, And She Needed To Hear Him Say It.

But Also I Wanted Him To Go Away And Leave Me Be. I Was Granted One Weak Grace. Back In The Room Where The Green Chair Was Still Warm From His Body, I Blew That Lonely, Flickering Candle Out

Everyday He Got Up. Before Sleep Wore Off, He Was Who He Used To Be. Then, As His Consciousness Woke, It Was As If Poison Seeped In. At First He Couldn't Even Get Up. He Lay There Under A Heavy Weight. But Then Only Movment Could Save Him, And He Moved And He Moved And He Moved, No Movement Being Enough To Make Up For It. The Guilt On Him, The Hand Of God Pressing Down On Him, Saying, You Were Not There When Your Daughter Needed You.

As She Stood In The Darkened Room And Watched My Sister And Father, I Knew One Of Things That Heaven Meant. I Had A Choice, And It Was Not To Divide My Family In My Heart.