When I look at him today,
I see a stranger
in a frail, tired body,
who over and over
wrings his hands.
But he’s not a stranger,
I know him,
I know his likes & dislikes,
I know what his dreams were
and what heights he reached.
I was there.
Yes, I know him, but
his eyes tell me he’s not there,
he doesn't know me,
he is gone.
His look provokes regret
of all the moments I wanted to say
I love you, but let them go by,
moments that can’t be undone,
that cause a hounding guilt
and profound sadness because
after so many years of
enjoying each other, of
embracing each other’s differences,
of letting go or holding tight,
today he doesn't know who I am.
But,
it doesn't matter.
I remember,
I know him,
I still love him.
So I smile, take his hand in mine
as I whisper my name in his ear
one more time.
Mildred Santiago
© 2014
