stevengoldenpoetry

Months have passed since your passing. 

As I decide to write this poem,

Through the window, I finally see

A hummingbird sip from the nectar

In Thumbelina’s cup,

Wired to a tip of the grate. 

A good omen, this! I am grateful.

*

*

While the hospital was a hell for you,

Hospice was not.  Nonetheless,

Toward the end of the first three days

You told the social worker,

“I no longer wish to live like this.”

Having forsaken resurrection, you started to die

One day at a time, day one, day two, day three.

*

Unable or unwilling to speak,

You raised your arm to brush aside

The cup of water I proffered.

Your eyes gazed on something high, behind me. 

Your smile broke my heart. It wasn’t for me.

Whenever you smiled thereafter,

Your face was lit with a wonder.

*

Finally, I said my farewell,

Remembering how, decades ago,

In response to your ask I embraced you on Castro. 

This was the moment we married in spirit,

A passing crowd oblivious to our commitment.

I could hardly walk as I walked away

From the room where you died.

*

Yet, three days later still,

I stood amidst trees in full flower.

Once again, I saw the opening bud

Of a poem I had prized:

*

“Pink petals, white petals, 

Drifting downwards,

Beautify the graves of the Earth.”

*

Magically,

The breeze carried a tiny, 

Thumbelina like blossom, pink,

And dropped it into the palm of my hand.

I heard Russ utter the single word, “See.”

I closed my hand over the moment

And placed it close to my heart for safekeeping.

*

*

Today, hours later, a second humming bird

Hovers near the cup filled with nectar.  

Quickly sated, I see it zip away 

To join with another,

The two of them soaring skyward.

I pray they take a promise from me to my Russ:

“Forever, we two together.”

*

Amen.

*

*

Steven Golden

Green Valley, Arizona

July 11-18, 2023