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Caught up in the moment

Silent.
Looking straight down, I watch
him laying there
on a gurney
covered from shoulders to toes, in a bag,
motionless.

People stand over him,
holding each other, weeping in pain.
In another room are caskets and boxes
that imprison people after death.

Alone,
I touch his old, wrinkly face,
feeling his prickly hairs on the top of his head.
It’ll be the last time.

Holding a box of tissues in one hand
and feeling him with the other,
I drop to my knees
with the realization that
he’s gone forever.





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