7/15/09
9:35 AM
Perhaps it is the length of time that
teaches us to take deep breaths –
An attempt to suck in forever and
hold our world in pause until, reviled
we retreat from the suffocation
of an endless day and exhale.
In wrinkled shirts and leather belts we hurry,
diving into the sticky smell of decades of
commuters, oiled electric tracks, the rush
home and after running there and down
we stand, to sit, to run again, to exhale out our day.
And you, Oma, grandmother of a different time,
have lived your final days in this deep
hurry outward, running home by standing
still, a rush through waiting and a deep pause
of eternity in the moments you open
your tired eyes. You are home,
forever, in your final exhale.
