Family

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~Dusk ~

(with Beloved Mother)


She sleeps....and I...sit by,

Unwilling yet, to leave.

For now and then she stirs to see

Me.

The fear goes with the illness.

Anything

Becomes an object she must shun

or hide from.

Waiting for the light to come again

Is endless night.

With all her might

She hopes for some familiar face

Or time ~ or place.

It is easier to leave when I hear the

Rhythmatic breathing begin.

Controlled by involuntary impulses.

Bright, blue eyes will search

Again tomorrow.

They will find

Me.

Will my face still be familiar?

Or will the thief I fear

Steal my memory also?

Reduced to ashes and empty stare

She waits by the door.

Some ask why.

Why do I come each day to see?

Because

I am me. Because I want to see

Traces of the smile I knew

And sweet relief from the misery

Of losing every single precious memory!

The loving ways, the happy days,

When speech was easy

Recollection keen!

...The easy breathing comes ~

Go now ~ Take up Time’s hands

Until...the light comes....

© 2003 by Joan Clifton Costner
http://underhiswings0.tripod.

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