My father sometimes more
Lucid than any time in his
Long life at night I sit with
Him counting sheep afraid
I’ll be the one here alone to
Hear his last breath it’s not
Death itself I fear but this
Uncharted passage from
One plane to another he
Tells me stories of his life
As pastor and missionary
The wild adventures in the
Back country of Brazil holding
Church in a saloon he says and
In a building where a guy stored the
Coffee he smuggled out of Brazil
And before that of a pastor he confronted
Who was having an affair, he speaks
Of conversions painting his life to
The tune of the pumping hospital bed
His voice distorted by the drooping left
Side of his face and still I understand the
Jumble and speak with him now maybe for
The last time, I change his bed raising lowering
In fear I will do the wrong thing will hurt this
Man I love forgetting the real source of his
Long life this medical end does not fit us
But we are here awake in the night counting
A lifetime of blessings along with the sheep

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