Talking to the Shadows

He was dying and I was afraid he'd gone crazy.

He didn't mean for me to see him this way,
I don't think he did
         (How much longer?)

He was looking toward the shadows
playing off the wall
         (I know, I know, in its own time)

I didn't know what to do, how to enter the room
should I cough, clear my throat, knock?
         (She doesn't know I see her there)

I walk to the side of the bed and sit next to him
holding his once strong hands
         He smiles.

I touch his once bronzed cheek
Trying to sound calm, normal
"I'm tired."

The hiss was not the voice I knew
and I'm taken aback
"He says I can go when you're ready."

The drugs have taken their toll
and the cancer more than it's pound of flesh
"You mean, when you're ready?"

The laugh that once filled a room
goes unheard
"He said you would say that."

I try not to cry, the suffering, pain,
has led to insanity
"He stands there in the shadows"

Involuntarily I turn to look at the corner
nothing there but shadows, curtains tossled by the breeze
"We've been talking for a long time."

"You know He's right.
Let me go. I'm tired."
I sob.

He takes his hand from mine.
Reaches toward the shadow
And a breeze passes
         Come, my friend, it's time."