Leaving

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grayscale photo of patient and relative holding hands

I watch you
struggle,
maintaining a fragile relationship
with life.

Dwindling and limp
only the mist on your oxygen mask
proclaims that your sleep
is not yet
that of death.

Little by little
I wean myself
from my unspoken belief
in your forever existence.

I confront the reality of mortality
knowing that some day I will join the next generation
in line for release

but not today.

Published in Main Channel Voices. Featured image by rawpixel.com from Pexels.