Dying
moments of remembering
stories to be told
over and over and over
new details arising
with each telling
pain and itching
time spent in the garden
admiring the blooming
and the buzzing
and the changing colors
nerves firing intermittently
a sharp mind
gone over to the world
of imagined things
some good
many wild and crazy
lumping bits of a life lived
with what's been read in a book
and what's presently real
names are forgotten
unable to find words
a body slipping away
reading a book together
enjoying the nuances
time spent in communion
tremors that shake
as though an earthquake
is rattling at the core
holding hands
soft and warm and filled with love
gentle moments
messes to be cleaned up
butts to be wiped
childlike abandon
at moments sweet and endearing
others bitchy and
tired of this whole damned living thing
Death
from disease
is not pretty
it's not kind
it simply is
it requires us to expand
our tolerance for the ugly side of life
that is
unless we decide
to slip that tired sick loved one
into a nice safe care facility
let someone else
do the caring
and the cleaning
miss the sweet moments of awareness
miss the tough part of letting go
it's all a choice
each family gets to make their own
as for me
today
I'm holding on
I'm listening
and letting go
and being love
to a mom
slipping over the edge