Untitled Poem # 27

I would like to think
I am the very
First mortal
He has ever revisited
From the land
Of immortality
His growing beard
So vividly pressed
Against my cheek
His grasped, fatherly embrace
Warming my fearful
Soul
Then, tears welled up
In acceptance
He is dead
The encounter retold
Re-enacted
Yet, mine and mine alone
Let it remain
Mine and mine alone…
For he was mine
And I was his
Yet he’s dead
And I still live…