
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash
I stumble into the room,
fumbling over sensible greetings
mustering a sense of authority
when in reality, I pretend.
I look straight into your eyes,
daughter you never had,
in another life, elder
today, my patient
kind of.
There is a lull and a pause
More than you’re used to...
Perhaps it is my soft voice,
the vacuum between us
but you pour into me
long lost dreams,
slowing of your body
a bittersweet gratitude
life anchored in the angel of death.
someone listens
Tears bound by bravado,
finally free
Thank you for being so vulnerable with me.
Thank you for letting me.