sometime in March

One of the most horrifying things
I've ever seen was the way
My father's mouth moved
on the hospital bed.

He didn't utter a single word,
Only quick breaths could escape.
He wouldn't give death the honor
of letting Her know the pain
was killing him.

His mouth would move and
His face was alert, and he'd stare
Out of the tall windows but his
Eyes seemed more focused on something
In front of him.

Years later it would occur to me
That he was talking to something.
The mouth formed words, sentences, he'd
Stop, wait for a reply from the invisible
Something then he'd start moving
That mouth again.

There would be nights, awful nights
Where I'd be in a fit trying to
Remember how that mouth would move.
Try to recognize moving patterns and
Unravel the mystery of his words.

My entire family was there in that
Horribly decorated room with it's wires,
And tubes. Savage machines and wilting
Flowers. I'd bring up the way dad's
Mouth moved but no one admitted
To seeing it.

This is a terrible time to start
Losing ones mind.
I was at the foot of the bed after
Having grown enough courage to see
This isn't the Colossus I remember!
Give me back the mountain!
Give me back the Goliath!

I had moved to where my failing father's
Eyes seemed to focus and started flailing
My arms about in total fury. Whoever
It was he had fixed his beam upon
Would know death this day.

Having spent all my energy setting myself
Upon Death I remember dropping to my knees
In submission. There were arms around me
And I was being escorted out of that
God awful room.

One last sentence.
One final chance.

"Dad you can't go now. The crappie will
be biting soon. We need to go fishing
one last time, dad."

"We will, Sam." He said.

We will.

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