Eulogy

By Eliza Clark

He forgot her face again. 
Time did not heal, and the medication eventually wears off. 
He rolls his ring around his finger and looks at her face.
He knows she’s someone, but he dies once again—still breathing, still seeing. 

Time did not heal, and the medication eventually wears off.
He searches her face and wonders why she still sits next to him, holding his hand.
He knows she’s someone, but he dies time and time again.
His adult children kiss him on his forehead before they depart.

He searches her face and wonders why she still sits next to him, holding his hand. 
He looks at me and calls me his daughter’s name.
His adult children kiss him on his forehead before they depart.
I die a little inside but smile when he recognises my baby.

He looks at me and calls me his daughter’s name. 
He rolls his ring around his finger and looks at her face.
I die a little inside but smile when he recognises my baby. 
He forgets her face, again.

Eliza Clark Biography
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Eliza is a poet and writer from the West Midlands, UK. Her work explores human relationships, identity, place, and our connection to myth and nature. Growing up in the region’s cultural diversity has helped shape her distinctive voice. Her poetry has appeared in Writerly Magazine and Blithe Spirit.