Half-frightened to death

I had spent days in purgatory

A most beloved soul lay stricken

A father's ring now upon a daughter's finger

Trusted, safe, and looked after.

I had made a daily vigil, a daily pilgrimage

Hands grasped, were clasped tightly

Gripped to the point of bones breaking

In time with every conjoined heartbeat

Proof that you were a fighter

Confirmation that you would never leave me.

Hands were joined

An action needing no words

To express: 'I love you.'

But when it came to leave

We both echoed these words

As an uncomforting, lonely night loomed

Brought chaos to the depths of our souls

Devils tormenting me when I was not near.

I had fought the tears the night before

Like Cauchlain fought the waves

But my struggle the hardest

When I saw a hint of a grin when you slept

I could sense it, you could see it

I knew you could see them, their light

I knew they were reaching out, holding out a hand to you.

I have lost my rock

I have lost my will

My immune system has buckled at the assault

My sight, my memory

Is rooted forever in that hospital ward

I am running, I am screaming:

I am here now Father.

Days trundle on, joyless and empty since the day

I stormed the ward to view your bed curtained off

A lingering deathly silence remained

No welcoming smile, no fatherly presence

Just a shadow, waiting for hot tears to explode

As warm hands grip stone cold hands.

You knew I was coming

But you couldn't wait one hour more?

I was told that you were beautiful

So beautiful that last morning

Seeming the happiest ever

But you had beguiled the world

Looking your best

For your last show, your last sparkle

Because you were leaving.

In the deep dusky melancholy of a family home

A candle is blown out, a portrait no longer illuminated

As aching eyes beg for sleep.

Put out the light, and then put out the light.

My precious darling is blown to Heaven.

Yet this ring was not meant to stay on this finger

And a father was not meant to be taken from a daughter

Days were not to be spent not at your side

Not on that ward, not alone.

Natasha Haidar © 2005