Narrated by Deborah Guzzi
I’ve watched him whither. He came to me a decade ago, stooped in pain. The fine boned features of his face and the clarity of his Irish skin still holding on to a genetic predisposition to beauty. He was a small man, but in height only, the oceans filled his heart. For a decade, I held him upright. With the help of God, his shoulders, upon which Atlas stood, released their burden, pulled back from their curl about his core. Touch was a healing balm from the helter-skelter of his life. As my fingertips and palms, the heel of my hand explored his dis-ease; he thawed, not like a snowflake but a glacier. Decades of stuffed down regret, and remorse, cajoled to release with no expected outcome but rest.
of his life surrounds –
Parts once strong: pride that flew, legs that skied, eyes that could take the measure of a man; now, rest every afternoon. There is no need now to mark the time. Still, he wears a watch, a Christmas gift from his love. The office lays footsteps from his backdoor. He feels they still need him.
sits wrapped in canvass –
winter wind’s blow
BIO: Deborah Guzzi travels for inspiration: China, Nepal [during the civil war], Japan, Egypt [two weeks before ‘The Arab Spring’]. She writes articles for Massage and Aroma Therapy Magazines. Her published poetry appears in: The Germ, Wilderness Literary Review, haiku journal, Contemporary haibun, Ribbons: Tanka Society of America Journal, Existere: Journal of Arts and Literature, Canada, Cha: Asian Literary Review, China, and Tincture Journal, Australia, Leaves of Ink, UK, Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Greece, among many others in the USA. She has two illustrated volumes of poetry, The Healing Heart and Heaven and Hell in a Nutshell.