I watch you
maintaining a fragile
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