Waiting

Time has no meaning when you are waiting on death.
The clock slows. The outside world ceases to matter.
It is amazing how much you let go without a second thought

as life is reduced to simply being, for these last few moments,
hours, perhaps days with the one you love.
No matter whether the love was perfect or flawed,

it was real, the best there was to offer,
and deserves the honor of your being there,
without time calling you at it’s ceaseless thrall,

to wait together, breath by breath,
for the last moment here, and the first bright moment
of life after life.

About this poem

This was written as I sit alone with my dad at the hospital. I am not the first to notice the timelessness of this place in life, when a parent prepares to leave this earth. So there is nothing new or particularly wise in this poem. It’s just a reflection of the moment.

Be well my friends. Cling to the ones you love and tell them so.

Tom