White Hair

The departed spends her first night in her grave 

Tucked in by relatives and friends

Each tossing three shovelfuls of dirt upon her coffin

A gesture of pure kindness

One for which there can be no repayment 

While the white hairs stood and watched 

Too old to lift even the tiniest bits of soil

Imagining their dead compatriot listening from within her eternal cocoon 

Watching for her hovering soul

Waiting for it to fly free

All the while counting the moments till their turn

Wondering by whose hands their graves will be filled

©kcasady2024

Null and Void

Perhaps I'm inured to it

Seasoned

A little bit too familiar

The old ones keep dying

Been through it before

Sadly

Knowing what to expect

The comments about long life

The brave remarks about the death

The requisite love and adoration

The war stories of caring for the old and frail

But past the cynicism 

Underneath 

Not too far below the surface

Exists a sense of wistfulness

Of longing to go back

To when the old ones were in their prime

When they buffered us 

The next generation

When their homespun faces dotted holiday dinners

The young ones assured of no change

Certain of continuity and always

Only a single old one still lives

For her

At 97 continuity disconnects and always becomes never

Time scampers quickly

Exhibiting an agility no one can stop

We younger ones step up

Reluctantly dotting funeral tables

with our taut faces

As we shield the next ones

Taking our turn

Walking involuntarily toward null and void

©kcasady2014

Veteran

Today he was gone

The room was empty

Devoid of the young veteran

Sitting at the table

Lap top humming

Working

On something

Perhaps a paper

A resume

Earnest in demeanor

Serious

Accomplishing his task

But today he was gone

That quite handsome

Busy young man

Very young

Too young

A veteran

Of what

Iraq

Afghanistan 

Comrades dead

IEDs

Snipers

Friendly fire

But today he was gone

Hopefully not dead

Yet

Perhaps called up again

Another tour

A trip to exotica abroad

Maybe this time safely to Germany or Japan

Or probably he just finished his paper

©kcasady2014

Tearing Up

Old tales of dead friends

She smashed into an icy killer tree, bled out

So no invitation to her grown up embryo’s wedding

Life, it keeps going

New tales of pancreatic cancer and 

Soon to be dead friends

A shared brita water purifier

The daily death watch reminder 

Current tales of anger

A screaming phone call

Drenched in unresolved fury

At his nearly dead mother

Some days the tears just drip

The silt backs up

Oozes out

Down grey cheeks

Leaving invisible salty trails

Nose runs

Eyes get gooey

And for what

©kcasady2014

Right Sized

Her battle was not lost

She still stands today

They never gave it a name

The illness that nearly struck her down

It’s a crap shoot she’d say

A guessing game

Some win

Some lose

Roll the dice

All or nothing

It took nearly two years

Surgeries, radiation, chemo

Leaving one dead kidney

A digestive tract loping along on scars

And the perpetual question

Is it back?

She’s cancelled her future medical appointments

What’s the point she says

Nothing they can do if they find something

So she lives

Travels

Stays at five star resorts

Spoils herself

Her son

Her husband

My every second day phone calls have stopped

No longer necessary

But then

As now

I do not discuss with her the shit storms that kick up in my life

Seemingly serious matters right sized when held up to mortality

I have my health

I face only quality problems

Things I’d deal with everyday

Twenty-four seven

Grateful

For the breath to work through them

©kcasady2014