Last Night

We were the family
there on his bed the five of us
touching his arms, his chest,
cradling his head.

For children
bending to
him, to ease his departure, bless
his mysterious

journey—
then I alone
uncovering the bony legs,
preparing him for rest.

Now I, in the limbo of
our fashioned earth,
cannot remember
how to be

alive,
crossing abandoned fields,
edges of cracked white sea,
high priest of sky.