waiting

as the stars fade
and the sun rises
through the window
I watch you
sitting by my bed.

the light touches your eyes.
making shadows of your lashes
steal down your cheeks
I want to reach out
trace the path.
my fingers are too heavy
to escape the coverlet.

I’m burning out. I can see it
in what the doctors fail to say,
in the way you look at me,
in the pain that fills me,
every time they change the bag
that pumps fire in my veins.

sometimes, when I pretend to sleep
I hear you pleading, stay—
for the children, grandchildren.
for you. you’re not strong enough,
you say, to continue alone.
I’m sorry, my darling.
it’s growing too difficult to fight.

when we were young together,
lightning struck the desert
the tumbleweed burned
turning barrel cactus into coal.
sometimes life burns the old
so new sprouts can grow.

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