These aren't poems for any of you. My uncle needed to hear some things before he died so I had to break my heart to let him know what love was.
leave me one hand to cling to.
i am vividly remembering scenes i'd rather not have seen at all.
i knew it was your dying breath.
i knew that your eyes had seen god and you were ready to stop moving so much.
i knew.
but i'm selfish.
i couldn't be the one to say it's over.
i couldn't be the one to say it was ok for you to go.
some things you missed:
gregory put his needle down.
i noticed that his eyes were red only because of the worrying.
my sister defended you heart.
she screamed, so everyone could hear her say that nothing could stop you from taking your 3 mile walks every morning
my mother didn't cry.
even when she'd pounded our chest nonstop.
for four minutes.
i was sure you had taken your last breath.
you could have mine.
i would gladly give my twenty plus yearsif you could tack them onto your lifeline.
your next birthday is not up for discussion.
© 2009 Marcea L. Brown. All rights reserved
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