Touch of Death

Do you remember touching death?
As he lay in the casket surrounded by flowers,
His face deflated like a burst balloon over coral.

Had those eyes been open
They would have laughed to see me fail at a push up
My flabby belly touching the floor before my nose did-
And yet, I touched death.

His skin was cold and stung my hand like a bee-
Cradling his jaw was painful as my heart felt
And the sting lingered after I broke caress.
Have you ever touched death?

Life is such a beautiful fairy tale full of laughter and stories
Both the wildly hilarious and the boring as he'd sit there with a cancerous dog
And stroke his soft fur with death waiting patiently by
Have you ever touched a waning soul?

And I never would have thought to see him in that chair
When life was with him after the mind had died
And though his life was warm it froze in
The touch where he lay in his Charon's canoe
And the pain that shot up my arm as I caressed his cheek and knew-
That I had touched death.

Where are the rest? Who know this feeling?
There are support groups for the grieving and the bereft
But where are those who can horrifically recall,
That they touched death?

Goodnight grandfather,
may the cold be only the cold of the bomb shell
In the explosion of your life
consuming those who knew you-

So your transcendence would remain in the world in your wake and their's
As those who knew them would grieve at their side
And feel pain but not deny one last touch of a cheek
Confidently touching death.