I Can Feel

I can feel the strength in my hand ebb away as my grip begins to faulter on the handle of the knife.

I can feel the warmth of freshly spilled blood slowly make its way down my fingers till it begins to drip onto the floor.

I can feel the ringing in my ears as the vibrations echo through my skull, distorting my senses.

I can feel the pain in my chest spread out like ripples in a pond from where the bullet pierced my soul.

I can feel the weight of gravity pulling me down as my body crashes against the floor.

I can feel the fear evaporate like sweat on a summers day as I see my children escape the people who have broken into our home.

I can feel the gaze of my ancestors waiting for me to join them as I ask them the only question that matters.

Did I do well?

***

I can feel the heat of the sun beat down on my neck as I stand alone over my father’s grave.

I can feel the sorrow well up inside, as memories of his sacrifice to buy us time flood my mind.

I can feel the slight touch of a breeze, like the gentlest of touches against my face, as I turn around and get back into my car.

I can feel the sense of pride as I look up into the sky and ask my father the only question that matters.

Am I doing well?

***

I can feel the strength in my hand ebb away as my grip begins to falter on the picture of my family I am holding.

I can feel the warmth of their love radiate through me like a wave of happiness that lights up my eyes.

I can feel the slowing of time as old age finally catches up and I look up one last time to see my father with his arms spread out wide.

I can feel his touch as we embrace, like a lost piece of my soul that has finally been found.

I can feel his joy as we walk off into the light together, no questions needing to be asked.

The end.