Late at night,
I see my green-orb’d friend.
She’s Facebook connected,
in a hospital,
waiting
for a daughter
to die.
Brain infused,
so young,
she was disconnected
this afternoon,
but still struggles through,
and makes my friend
wait
for the end.
As I see the green orb,
“mobile”,
I recall
how I’m waiting.
My daughter,
too,
brain diffused,
rushes onward
towards death.
Her time is less certain.
The inevitability,
less set.
I have some hope.
Though not much,
“There is always hope!”
And so my friend
and I
are connected
by death,
certain and uncertain;
by prayers,
faithful
— the only life support
we can offer —
and hopeless;
by love,
our hearts given
to our children;
and by a small
green
glowing
orb.
Cyrano Writer: Musings of a Revolutionary Romantic Poet 
You must be logged in to post a comment.