By Scott Thomas Outlar

I sang to my Father

on his deathbed.

He had not spoken a word

in days, cancer-ridden,

organs collapsing, high on morphine,

but I knew he could still hear me.

I sang a song

from a book I’d written

years earlier during a particularly

good time in my life, and this,

being a particularly dark time,

seemed like the right time

to balance the dualistic energies.

I don’t think

I gave such considerations

that much thought

at the time; I was just sad

and wanted to sing, wanted

my Father to hear my voice

in a deep bass tone

that mirrored his own.

I sang a song called Home.

I sang it with all my soul,

as a goodbye note

to the most important person

I have ever known.


Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, live events, and books can be found. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Scott was a recipient of the 2017 Setu Magazine Award for Excellence in the field of literature. His words has been translated into Albanian, Afrikaans, Persian, Serbian, and Italian.

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