The enormity
of the grief
pushing down

on the aged shoulders.
Words fail me
seemingly,

one word in front
of the other,
like one learning

to walk again;
word utterances,
seem so banal,

so ordinary,
do not do justice
to the feelings felt.

Your words,
last of which,
ok or don't know,  

are kept in mind
or memory or on
cell phone click.

You-
the best of-
to go

in such a way.
Dark ward,
lone bed,

at the far end.
What philosophy,
what faith,

what hopes
can make amend?  
We were there

at the final sail
of ship's departure,
my son,

hand holding,
arm stroking,
whispered hopes

sent to air's feel.
Your death,
untimely,

unbelievable,
in comprehensive,
still.