All Poetry

The Sleep.

Rivulets of sorrow meandering
down tear-stained skin.

โ€œKeep her comfortable
untilย it’s time.โ€ย ย ย 

Simple words-
echoes
of eternal reminder within.
You rise.

Guiding her
through the threshold
into the chill,

shudders
of realization emerge.

You survey
the molting trees,

their arid leaves
embellishing her hair
like fragments of
woven rhinestones.
As if they weep for her.
As if even the ambiances
of ages past are beseeching
her not to leave.

Soon arrives the Foehn,
holding you within
its warm embrace.
Its breaths,
whispering lines of truth,
sculpt a bittersweet tune
as they herald
the eveningโ€™s arrival.
You understand.

Cloaked
by lyrics of singing ivy,
her expression calms,
your fears dissolve.
Consoled by a draft possessive,
you cradle her
through the darkness
and follow her
toward the seraphโ€™s call
into the fold of
midnight slumber.

โ€ข

27 replies »

    • Thank you for your kind words! ๐Ÿ™‚ I think in these situations…the patient is by far the stronger one (as you probably have experienced while working in hospice). Their courage is incredible.

  1. A very moving poem, beautifully written! Yes, wonderful relationship in your working with them… thanks Phoebe for this insight ๐Ÿ™‚ All the best and keep on writing! Regards, Iris

  2. Beautiful poem, Phoebe. In your line of work, I don’t know how you deal with everything you see — although how wonderful that you can deal with it thoughtfully and honestly in your poetry.

  3. I love the line “like fragments of woven rhinestones”. It captures the essence eloquently. Enjoyed the imagery and the feelings captured throughout. A mixture of joy and sadness. Thank you.

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