'night mother

November 8, 2008

My mother is dying. I was slapped in the teeth with that reality in the dark hours of morning. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. My rage, my terror, my overwhelming sorrow given no mercy by whatever god it is that’s supposed to look over us.  She’s been gutted like a beast at a roast, pieces of her extracted and tossed, disease ridden, useless to everybody but her. Dignity, feminity, humanity forcefully stripped from her body cruely, suddenly and in a harsh unwelcome manner. There is no grace in death. It’s a fallacy. Death is vicious and brutal ~ a horrifying reality and it’s come for my mother. I’m so afraid I’m going to wake up to the quiet that only death can bring. Am I only to lose her when I’ve just found her?

‘Night Mother

The soft hiss of 
machines in the night
mingling with
labored breaths tinged with
the stench of medicinal fumes
wafting under my nose

Appalled by the cruelty of
life as it dissipates
before my very eyes
soft echoes of goodbye
growing louder
I watch grayed skin sagging
heavy with disease
eyes red-rimmed
once bright lights
dimmed
as realities sink in
her lost hopes
and dreams
never to be realized

Knowing
her end is near
riddled with fear
my sorrows trickling onto
a beloved face
death holds no grace
I lean down
kissing cracked
and dried lips
whispering
brokenly
’night Mother~

nov 8, 2008