Poetry Thursday

MUST THERE BE TEARS?

You laid there wasted and pale -
Greedy death waited and watched.

Doors open, close, and open again -

White soled feet come and go.

Halting breath, mottled feet -

Antiseptic air, astringent and sharp

I press my forehead against the wall

seeking comfort and strength where none is to be found.

You lay there unmoving but not alone.

Family and friends arrive

Son and daughter with wife and husband join hands

Insubstantial spirits surround you, welcoming you home.

Parents gone since your youth – Husband of 54 years

I smile with bittersweet relief.

Tears should wet my face

But only weakness settles in my knees

As my breath matches labored breathing, I wonder

Is it possible to cry and not shed a tear?