Time Heals SM The following article contains elements of parental death and medical-related trauma. Reader discretion is advised.
My mother is fading fast now. Her presence slipping from my life, Like sweat off the skin, On a scorching summers day. She is mostly absent, Mostly on the end of a phone, In a land of otherness. (Sometimes not even there.) I watched her today, As her smile faltered, And her breath quickened, (when her heart stumbled.) As doctors rattled off orders. (Sometimes I pretend I’m in a diner). That the order’s for a serve of fries. Rather than for the defibrillator. I keep my breathing steady, Closing my eyes, opening again. Desperately ignoring, As the arms of death try to (embrace her.) The darkness reaching out, Talons grasping and pulling— Gaping maws consuming— Every facet of self. They notice my stare and laugh. Taking more, Taking faster— Greedily snatching up what they want.
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