THE END Jan. 26, 2020
Struck! In the mountains of New Mexico.
Flown home in small swift jet.
He’s in special care now, special place.
Each dawn I fight the traffic,
spend each day speaking for the silent one,
guarding care of him who’s struck.
I fight to get back home.
Silver foil keeping warm a meat,
plastic showing smiling muffin,
bowl of greens, cup of pudding.
My eyes tear up to feel the shawl of care on me.
Each day a box,
each day a different meal,
each day tears and rest.
Tonight I sleep.
my tank of care refilled to give.
Worn out, I fall asleep on folding sofa.
But tumble up in night to turn him over
His body slides, toes crunch;
I stand behind, grab the sheet beneath his arms,
yank him up again.
He weighs 60# more than me,
me 4’ 10”.
He cannot move a muscle of his own;
his eyes say “Thanks.”
My day begins.
The aide – no show, just quit.
I’m on my own today until I find and train new help, small pay.
I love him.
Against all odds, I fight to keep him with me.
How long can he hang on?
How long can I hang on?
#3 Letting Go
Hanging on too long
My body says “Let go.
Let go – I want to live.
Let the dying go.”
NO NO NO NO!”
He sees and knows
and he lets go.