Crossing Over
A prompt to Quote No 14
A man is now ninety years old
He’s aware his time is running out
His family gathers around his bed
To say their goodbyes and farewells
A priest called, an anointing done
Yet he clings to see tomorrow
He’s worried about his children
Has he done enough for them?
Has he left a lasting legacy?
What would his obituary say?
A voice comes to his soul saying
Lift your foot. Cross over.
He sees his mother, dressed in a blue sari
He last saw her almost a century ago
He left home a boy, crossed an ocean
Sadly, he couldn’t return in time
His mother’s bones decomposed by now
Along with all his childhood toys
Yet he is filled with precious memories
As he contemplates his final moments
Lift your foot. Cross over.
One foot moves effortlessly
It yearns to be finally free
To join his family once again
And yet the other foot feels heavy
He turns back to see another family
Different faces, different names
Please don’t leave us, he hears them say
Lift your foot. Cross over.
The voice beckons his soul once again
He looks back at his mother
She now stands with his father and siblings
Tears well up in his sunken eyes
How he longs to be free of this world
Yet he stutters, his foot can’t seem to move
I’m sorry, I can’t come home just yet.
It felt like my grandfather was on his way out in March just when he turned ninety, we all gathered to say our goodbyes. It’s July and he’s still going strong, sounds like he’s determined to live through the pandemic.
A voice comes to your soul saying
Lift your foot. Cross over.
― Rumi
I wrote this as a response to Samantha Lazar’s Quote Prompt No 14. Thank you for sharing.
She also inspired me to write this:
© 2020 Jonathan Fashanu
