Poem: Last Breath

froth

Last Breath

And suddenly,
at the end,
life is measured, not in time,
but in breaths,
each one a measure of life
about to cease.

About this poem

I spent yesterday at the deathbed of a parishioner, a dear lady with a dear family that I am close to.  It brought to mind my own parent’s death just a few short years ago, how time stops, the world stops, and everything hinges on the next breath, and the next, until there is no more.

Sad? Of course. But also an affirmation of how precious life is.

Tom

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s