Her voice is weak through the hallway. Sounds of showers and rising steam. She calls you. feeble.
THe last word we've ever wanted to describe her. Sick. Tired. older.
WE never wanted to realize your mortality. "please" you say, begging. This can't be true, this can't be true.
But it is. One by one her organs revolt. test after test. knife after knife. surgery after surgery.
It approaches.
You never want to grow up. not in that way. not in that way. Never want to be the adult. Never want your mother in the ground.
She is strong and beautiful. Thin and tall. She is wonderful. wonderful.
Goddess in god. Light in light. How many words will never begin to describe her?
"Please," I say.
On her knees praying: begging.
I'd give up the world to keep her.
No comments:
Post a Comment