Siblings 'round the table
At day's end
Many years since it's been
Just us
Wives, husbands, kids
Usually
Take their place around the table
But not tonight
Not at the end of this day
Nor at the end of that day
Both days
Breathing has been labored
And we gather
Because breath and life have been a struggle
In & out
Out & in
Labored & heavy
It is just the siblings here now
Children grown enough
To leave the adults
At the table
No in-laws either
They are busy taking care of other things
Just us
Gathered at the table
At the end of the waiting day
The miles apart
Have lessened
The tubes
The struggling of breath
The need for cheering one another's hearts
That comes by being in this loss
Together
Together
Around the table
Where we fought about whose turn it
Was to do the dishes
And we teased and scolded
And ate many meals
Siblings only
Just like the days of old
Except now
The battle is for life and breath
We wish it wasn't the suffering
That brought us here
Yet, we are
Together again as
Siblings round the table
At days end
* * *
Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose.
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Sunday, September 16, 2012
On tears
The pages are wrinkled
In that spot
In that spot where
The tears that have fallen
So many times
Were they the tears during the hardest nine months?
Were they the tears for the one we lost?
Were they the tears from the lonely nights?
Tears from the times I'd blown it again?
Were they the tears from the years we ached for children?
Were they the tears of sadness for my sister, her husband, and daughter
Who lost him to a battle of cancer
Are they for the child who wishes he knew
Where his mother was when he woke up
I opened the book
My eyes saw it again
The wrinkled spot on the page
In that wrinkled spot
It is...written
He hears my cry
He counts my tears
And captures them in a bottle
Mourning may last for the night
But a shout of joy comes in the morning
And so I wait for the morning
With my tears
And the pages
Written by my God
Who will rescue us from here.
One day.
And wipe away those tears
One
Last
Time
* * *
Linking with Jen and with Emily.
In that spot
In that spot where
The tears that have fallen
So many times
Were they the tears during the hardest nine months?
Were they the tears for the one we lost?
Were they the tears from the lonely nights?
Tears from the times I'd blown it again?
Were they the tears from the years we ached for children?
Were they the tears of sadness for my sister, her husband, and daughter
Who lost him to a battle of cancer
Are they for the child who wishes he knew
Where his mother was when he woke up
I opened the book
My eyes saw it again
The wrinkled spot on the page
In that wrinkled spot
It is...written
He hears my cry
He counts my tears
And captures them in a bottle
Mourning may last for the night
But a shout of joy comes in the morning
And so I wait for the morning
With my tears
And the pages
Written by my God
Who will rescue us from here.
One day.
And wipe away those tears
One
Last
Time
* * *
Linking with Jen and with Emily.
Labels:
cancer,
extra kids,
faith,
foster care,
poem,
trial
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)