Nothing Left Unsaid

Image Credit: Giv Meraj

I slept like a baby

the night you passed away,

dreamed while my brother

made the palms of his hands

a towel to dry his eyes;

while my mother made her chest

a pillow, her body a shield

from death.

I slept like a baby

the night you passed away,

dreamed while my father’s face

was backlit by blue lights.

They handed him a ticket for speeding.

His penance for not being

fast enough to say goodbye.