is my father's yahrzeit
just ten days from now
in my mind's eye
I see him as I did for the last time
lying in the funeral home
when I reached out
placing my hand on his cold brow
stroking his hair
as I had never once
done in his lifetime

Today my sister sent a photo
to my phone
a poem I had written years ago
which she had found folded up
in a wallet that he'd carried in some pocket
it brought tears to my eyes
how much we hurt eachother
simply through our reticence
the things we could have said
but left unspoken
despite all that we felt
of grief and love