Tremble

Silver follicles thinly combed,
Over speckled brow kindly wrinkled ,
His eyes ever inward honed,
Looking for memories long addled,
I remember.

And Pop loved all within his sphere,
Beloved and loving with every breath,
His eyes paled, but showed no fear,
That he was losing the race with death,
I remember.

A gentleman managing his broken world,
Always glad to see someone he ought to know,
Speak a prayer and his brow would unfurl,
And his countenance betrays a warm glow,
I remember.

Lost were places, people, dreams, words,
Barely a shadow of the man beloved of kin,
Mostly he had made the journey heavenwards,
With but a breath hanging on to his skin,
I remember.

The Lord is my Shepherd;
I Shall Not Want,
Pop's eyes clear in connection...
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
A vague look of recognition...
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
He quiets his search for lost speech...
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
His inward gaze in upward reach...
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
And contentment imbues his gaze...
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
And Pop sees beyond his mindless maze...

And Pop shortly breathes his last,
Now his tears, memories restored anew,
His sweet Savior now holds him fast.
In that place, he believed was true.

Breathe,
Pray,
Tremble.