Cracked open

Very slowly, I wrapped my uncle's van
around a tree.
With only a slight creak, the door
caved in, and I frantically
wiped the scratches with my tears.

Upon my confession, he chuckled, and looked away.
Well, not away, but at his sick wife.
And waved me off with a smile; Don't worry.

Wife's got more than scratches and the van
has no expected date of expiration. It runs fine;
her, not so well.

And my perspective shifted to match
his own.
___________________________
I saw her dying, a wrinkly left-over
peel of a person. In a tip-toe we watched
her slip away from us, suspended between
Just go, and Please stay.
__________________________
I heard in the hospital he told her it was
okay, that she could stop fighting. Through tears,
reluctant permission.
___________________________
Sitting in a quiet late-afternoon kitchen
with my hands busy, I saw him break open.
He cracked and fell onto my father, a wet basket
of desperation, and splintered into pieces in front of me.
My father said, That's what happens when you love
someone so much.

I went to water my face somewhere else,
and thought What a terrible risk.