He died the morning of his second <br />daughter's wedding. Fell across an <br />unmade bed; <br />half-dressed, half-drunk. <br />His heart, they said. <br />A priest came, <br />kissed the bride, prayed over her father, <br />who'd rarely set foot on holy ground <br />since Burma and Korea. <br />Said he didn't need the benefit <br />of clergy after those small affairs. <br /> <br />His heart? <br />His heart signed its peace <br />that wedding day, <br />after beating a long, long retreat.<br /><br />James Mills<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-long-retreat/
