Thursday, October 28, 2010

In Sickness and In Health

The prep nurse noted her fragile veins
advised delay, but
she was ready, so,
on she went.

Together for decades,
he could not be with her
in surgery.

Something gave and
she never woke.
For two days
she lingered
on life support;
they told him
he needed to make
a decision.

Knowing she hated it,
he told them to stop;
all of it.

Down in the bright sterility
of the cafeteria,
he was cutting into his chicken when
he felt a hand,
warm on his shoulder.

He knew it could not be her,
not her body;
no one else saw,
she was there
only for him.

She smiled and said,
“It’s going to be all right;”
and then
she was gone.

A love crossing decades
suddenly condensed,
out of time;
in the last possible moment
one thing needed to be said;
“It’s going to be all right.”

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