Tuesday, May 18, 2010


frail and pale
this one legged sack of potatoes
used to be a man...as tall as me
we turn him every few hours to help prevent bed sores
every half hour because he calls us in out of discomfort.
out of loneliness.
out of the dark.

cold eyes
grey and glazed
look up to no where
at me, through me, past me
to the walls the skies
whatever lies behind...

a cold ass heart comes in
to question
asking when's his time to die..
who wants his body
do i have to bury him
his wife

not even accepted for science
alone in the dark
death looms over him
not even i can see
the weight of his obscurity

not even touch can matter now
facing the darkness that shades his brow
holding his hand, offering care
he could barely see me there...

i can't express what it's like to watch someone waiting alone for death to come.
you can't fix anything at that point
eyes stapled to your destination

when will it end?

1 comment:

Dave said...

Wow... powerful.... too real for you I can only surmise.