Fusing
You lay now on your silver bed
flowers all around
and that seems right;
always you were the last
having brought your book to the party
to the last to leave cleaning up
arms always full
of emotional gifts
for each and everyone
who took shelter within them,
there was always with them
an inexhaustible supply of love
gentle hope transferred to the hopeless
who came away still warms from those arms touch
from those late night talks
supports given and renewed and
all able to make a new way back to the light.
All knew how limitless was your giving
but few noticed the toll it took
because you made those tolls invisible.
Who knew your way of being
left you exhausted in the long nights
where nonetheless the next day
you made your self recover
or even took the dead of night phone call
from each and every one
who never noticed in you
any hesitancy
only your giving;
never had a cat or dog
people took from you all the time
you always gave more than asked for.
It was you who cooked the potluck dinners
made the small loans
so many times
helped to comb
the papers
with those whom needed a job
your thin arms
pointing to this one or that one.
On the day of interview
it was you standing outside
even in the dead of winter
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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