The day I held you in my arms,
and watched you gasp for your last
breath:
I was filled with anger and relief.
My heart pounds against the skin
of my chest; the beat drums past
my veins until I lose any connection
with it and it just becomes entwined
with the air around me.
Unnoticed.
But it's calm. It's quiet.
You're gone and it's okay;
you're no longer in pain that
I couldn't take away. The medicine
only held back the disease for so
long, till it ravaged through
your bones and spirit.
You weren't yourself anymore;
you never flew past my sight
with the same melody gracing
your sides.
You just laid there.
For hours.
For days.
For weeks.
I don't know if you heard me
crying as you took your last breath;
I don't know if you heard me
whisper that I love and will miss
every speck of your presence.
I don't know how the soil
is treating you, how the earth
has given you life and snatched
it away.
I just know that I will never
forget the memory of you
and how you're
