DEATH Poem: What To Say to My Uncle, by Zoya Davis-Hamilton

My uncle lives some hours away.
The family asked me to give him a call.
I have not spoken to my uncle in years.
The weight of my words will be magnified
By each year that has gone by.

There is no one reason why we stopped talking.
Nothing dramatic occurred or transpired.
I am sure that given the chance,
He would have continued to impart on me
Self-righteous opinions and right-wing theories.

He was part of my life when I was little.
I was drawn to narcissists even then.
They can be irresistible and charming.
So intolerable with their sense of entitlement.
But you don’t figure this out when you are little.

The question of what to say to my uncle is manyfold.
What does one care to say to someone
Who is a self-important misogynist,
Ladles disinformation and intolerance,
And does not think kindly of queer people.

What could one say to someone
Who is always toxic to his wife and daughter,
Brainwashing them so they think it is normal,
Poisoning the air in the household
With disquiet and distress as background.

What should one say to a person
Who is so ill, they lost the ability to speak,
And who happens to be dying.