Visiting Hours are Over

So muscular and handsome, my boy is.

His hair is so soft and smooth. His legs are

so white and beautiful. The shape of his

feet are identical to my father’s.

My son’s feet were always cold, for his warmth

was always concentrated in his soul.

But I cannot leave…not now, not ever…

The moment I leave I will no longer

have a son. Right here, right now, I have come

to claim his body…I am visiting

my son…I -am his mother. As long as

I hold his flesh beneath my hands, he is

still here, with me, in the room, spending time

together. I love you, son…And even

though I, was your mother, You, were my best

friend. It almost killed me to bring you to

life, and now it is killing me to let

you go. I didn’t leave you then, and I

can’t leave you now. Son, even though you are

lying here motionless and weak to the

eye, give me the strength to Live! I want to

crawl up this refrigerated metal

slab and lie with you. I’ll sing you songs, and

read you bedtime stories like I did when

you were just a boy. Even though you’d sleep,

they were unforgettable times between

both of our souls. But I refuse to leave…

I just won’t do it…not now, not ever.

Alan Salé