Vigil
I know how it feels
to sit at the bedside
in a hospice room,
watching.
I know the smells
that permeate the air
surrounding a loved one
whose time is running out--
bleached sheets and a faint odor
of unwashed hair.
I know the halting rise
and fall of the chest,
have listened to the labored breathing
not knowing whether to pray
for the next breath or the final one.
I know the precise yet tender gestures
of caregivers doing what they can
to keep the patient comfortable,
without hope of healing,
seeking only a peaceful transition.
Twenty years ago,
it was my mother.
Today it is my planet.
Vigil by Gloria Heffernan | Lemon Poetry Reed Diffuser
$20.00Price
