The old man lay there, nearly unconscious,
awake, but absorbing the sounds and emotions
spent nearby-
a failure to thrive, they said it was,
a failure to adapt,
a failure to grow,
to reinvent-
he always felt as if he’d walked along the beach
wearing dense rubber boots,
so close to beauty but unable to touch it-
so close…yet just out of reach-
he felt the minutes slip away into the
vastness of eternity,
tick by tick, just as they’d always gone,
and he felt sleepy…
tired,
threadbare-
he lay there…conscious but unconscious,
present, but absent,
one foot planted in this world, and yet one
stepping into the next,
he lay there alone with his thoughts,
without the strength to don his mask once more-
he breathed deeply, quietly, awake but absorbing the sounds
and emotions spent nearby,
and with silent eyes watched as the dawn absorbed the stars,
until the blue made way for the reds and yellows
and greens of the new-
a failure to thrive, they said it was,
to adapt, to grow, to reinvent-
the smell of the ocean crept in like a vine
and clung to him then..
how he longed to walk along the beach without his boots,
sand beneath his feet and the cool waves crashing against his skin…
the smell of the ocean crept in and clung to him,
as did a buoyant hope and promise that his
failure to thrive would be enveloped by his strength
to overcome*