So the Couch Sits

he was like a chicken without a head
she screamed she'd plead
she screamed for help
but no one heard what she said
no one could help anyway
he was dead
his body twisted and contorted
face down he went.

years of screaming of fights
years of lonely nights
days of making up
making love
the touch of a hand to get her through.
the body
the voice
the skin
the breath...
it was all gone now
just memories remained.

What was left?

Memories of blood on the couch
what now?
clean it up and move on?

the couch gets cleaned up.
the couch stays.
but he went away.

he's never coming back they say.
why would he ever?
he never felt better.
but that's not the point, not now anyway

so the just couch sits- three feet to the left of where it used to be.
where he'd sit there's no cushion just a cover-
a blanket to fill in the gap
no one can sit there though- no, not in his spot.
no back can lean back where he sat.
his skinny, little soft, little back

he's gone and it's not news again, but it's still a shock again- and the disbelief just keeps on kicking in.

our bodies are just a holding place,
they're not where we remain
the spirit is not a part of your head,
and though the flesh might be dead,
the flesh was never really the one you loved.
Just what the spirit wore so you could identify it.
To feel it,
feel a hug.
feel his love through touch.
never thought much about it then
but now it's all she wants.

to kiss a swollen foot again
a little foot like a balloon with water filling in,
doc said call them if it's swollen.

all our lives are all broken
and we know something's missing
but when someone's actually gone it's different.
Jesus takes you when He's ready to take you in
not when we think it's time,
cos our timing isn't perfect.

Thank you Jesus
(I yearn to really thank Him)