blown out to sea

i visited him

on Christmas eve. touched

his foot

that stretched beneath the clean

white sheets.

he didn't budge.

there were no drinks nearby,

no cigarettes,

no angry

children, disgruntled wives.

no police

knocking at his door.

he was alone

at last. the hurricane

of him

had blown out to sea.

i said a few

words of prayer.

his eyes were closed.

i told him

not to worry, you'll be out

of here soon.

then it's back to work.

there was a calmness

in the room

i never felt

when he was alive.

for once he wasn't fighting

the world.

at last he got the respect

he longed for,

by strangers, by those

unknown.