Red and green lights strung up, Celebrate, not Christmas, But the holiday for those gathered In heavy coats, shouting, “Marg bar Amrika!” “Death to America!”
Here in America, death Has arrived at my house. My father, who left that place More than fifty years ago Has faded into the white Light of winter. The week-long vigil At his bedside, waiting For recovery is over.
Death arrived and we, We welcomed it for him. The fight he gave after the stroke, The squeeze of his hand, The twitch of feet and palms Made me pray for a sign. The answer rang in my ear.