Melting, a poem by Gerry Stefanson at
Timothy Dykes



written & performed by: Gerry Stefanson


Melting, our daughter asked us when a toddler,
is that what death is?
Now that, here today, gone tomorrow approach,
resonates louder than most responses.
She is now a mother,
and the questions come.

Melting, now in my life
makes more sense.
Then most explanations, rationalizations, or holy stuff.
Grasping this concept
is somehow freeing?
This I can visualize,
even the tactile,
slipping away, yet still in a presence.

Though a dozen plus years, later
after being seasoned a bit more to death,
or so we thought.
We were proven incorrect.
She, us, we, and I
lost her brother.
In a way, maybe misplaced him.
But he melted,
and melted does not come back.

Now, miles down the road,
I think of the melted I’ve known.
Family, friends, neighbors, and casual acquaintances.
All those loved ones.
Now, my always and ever so smart daughter,
will engage her daughter and they too,
will discuss melting.
I trust all the pro’s and con’s.
The trek of grief, hope, and future.

I know others who will melt,
sadly before their time, at their time
and maybe, pass by their best before date.
Then one day I’ll melt.
Then, I may learn the answer to her question.

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