Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

His face was red from mid-November when
I’d seen him in the church’s basement, just
a Saturday ago, his wife and step-
son, loved, in tow; the three of them
had come to browse the holiday fair. I shook
his hand—we smiled about the baptism
of both his son’s two daughters. Red,
his face alive then; black when it was dead—
a cursed chameleon kind of charism,
a curt and captivated kind of look
upon his face an evening later: Ma’am,
your husband’s ready—nurses’ kindest preparations
echoed soft—but how should she adjust
when love was hanged on no more love therein?

Interesting alliteration. Is 'charism' intended? jim

Thanks, Jim--

charism (Greek): a spiritual gift

Sometimes it is worse when there is no change of face ...

Felipe’s Tears

Felipe Gottheil, my grandson,
died unexpectedly September 25, 2010, age 18

He lies there, so pale,
a gentle smile on his lips,
eyes closed as if asleep,
His body is covered to the chin
in huge lace ruffles
and in the corner the lustrous lid of the coffin,
waiting.

The stricken faces of his two younger brothers,
the tears of Mariana, his mother,
as she leans over her eldest son, her hand caressing
his face, his hair.
Her voice whispers loving words in those ears,
now unhearing forever.

The moment has arrived for us to leave for the cemetery.
His mother covers Felipe’s face
with her own, murmuring softly,
pressing her cheek to his,
until she realizes she must withdraw.

I go to look at him one last time,
at this grandson so special, so intelligent, so creative,
gifted in music, in art.
Two tears shine under his eye
and it is as if Felipe is mourning with us, for our sorrow
at losing him,
crying with the tears lent him
by his grieving mother.

Insightful and depth of feelings weaved within.