The Delicate Boat

By Paul Martin

	(A Prayer for Fritz)

The stillness of morning.
Through the open windows
only the dove’s soft weeping
as I wash my brother’s face
and prepare to shave him.
He lies back in the pillow
and closes his eyes.
I look long at his broken body
and see, in his sunken chest and the deep pelvis,
in the high arch of his hips
and the raised curved ribs, the slender,
delicate boat, so perfectly crafted,
waiting.
Along its sides the silent
waters are lapping.
Christ, all he could, he has done.
Let the waters rise,
let them rise and lift him,
drift him free of this troubled shore.


from Life on the Line: Selections on Words and Healing. Negative Capability Press, 1992. 
Originally appeared in Green Tomatoes. Heatherstone Press, 1990. 
Reprinted by permission of the poet.