Amen

    by Marianne Lyon

He wakes

a ghost smiling

as if in a place unreal

time has blown away years of him

like birds gone in a flash of wing

A nursing home

devoid of usual acrid smells

we traipse in each week

bring him songs

“Oh when the Saints…”

A bit of grin twinkles

like he is focusing the lens

of his memory on these words

mouths “go marching in”

eyes close and open

thoughts flock back

We slow the last line

“Oh how I want to be in that number”

Vowels take the stage—

long and wide

pull him along

“Oh when the Saints….”

We end the song

His chin rests on the acreage of his chest

He whispers “Amen”

the word seems to echo

in the architecture of his head

Repeats “Amen” louder

with an expression of someone

told something extraordinary

We take our leave

say we’ll see him next week

he turns to us like a hiker

looking down a path

reviewing the journey

I imagine him unspooling

another “Amen”

© 2015  Marianne Lyon

Marianne Lyon has been a music teacher for 39 years. After teaching In Hong Kong she returned to the Napa Valley and has been published in various literary magazines and reviews such as Colere, Crone, Trajectory, Earth Daughters, Feile-Festa, and Whirlwind. She spends time each year teaching in Nicaragua. She is a member of the California Writers Club, Healdsburg Literary Guild.