Leaving
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.
©2009 by Vincent O’Connor. All rights reserved.
First published in the Fall 2009 issue of Main Channel Voices.
Photo by Steven HWG on Unsplash
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