Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2211787
Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #2211787
For my mother
Mom doesn’t know how to die.
She tries to relax, fall into it,
but keeps waking each day.
Her body shuts down around her
without release.

Dad hasn’t come for her yet.
She asks us to pray for death.
Who can take up those sharp words?
We pray instead for peace, healing.

We make her stay.
She endures and endures,
to no end, bitter
or sweet.
© Copyright 2020 Merrijane (merrijane at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2211787