When Father Dies
janine canan
When Father dies, his hair gone white,
no more time to rinse it bright,
shave his cheek, dress so neat,
thin all skin, and bones won't stand.
When Father dies, too tired to walk,
wheelchair now and hospital bed,
no business calls, no signing checks
or driving shiny Cadillacs.
When Father dies, no breath
in his lungs, no air in his blood,
no wish to eat, his feet so big,
his heart won't pump.
When Father dies, his voice so soft,
children gone away, astray,
no more demands to come home,
no more patriotic tirades.
When Father dies, no gifts or loans
or firm advice, no boat rides
or fast drives, no Mother saying
He's so stubborn, men are all that way.
When Father dies, they come and take it
all away, everything he worked for,
self-made man, all the money
he made buying and selling land.
When Father dies, no more family,
no more American dream,
developing desert and mountain and shoreline,
the bombs piled high.
When Father dies, poor baby,
poor thing, he mostly sleeps
or wakes in pain, no more time
to be anxious or kind.
You have to come, you have to go,
Old Father says,
no more breath, no more life,
no more avoiding death, the void.
When Father dies, the sky is clear,
the sky is cold, the sun is bright
and oh so slight,
the mountains snowy white.
When Father dies, no one
to open the window,
no one to turn out the light
for the little girl who cries and cries.
When Father dies, he says Goodbye,
following his father and mother,
his sister and brother,
leaving his body, his home.
When Father dies, he no longer cares
about his heirs, busy with dying,
accepting and fighting, remembering
and forgetting his failures and sins.
When Father dies, he smiles so sweetly,
what agonized eyes,
enjoying and suffering,
learning to live with his fears.
When Father dies, his loved ones
are praying for courage and light
as he turns to water, to air, to fire,
he sees with wide open eyes.....
