PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It is the same breath that I watched so fervently as a child, but it is mechanical now. 

And even our oldest is crying, 

saying she doesn't know what to do for you, and looks to me–

but my chest and throat are warm, filled with tight air as I keep my tears. 

But I, who is known to fight, battle, and hurt you—  

I am still your daughter, 

and you are still alive with me, 

and I do not want you to know my hatred any longer. 

I want to hold your hand with its warmth and say sweet things to you.

I am again at the side of your bed, 

pleading for your chest to rise and fall,

but I am full of forgiveness and resolution,

and I am brave now as I tell you, unreserved and unashamed, 

of my need for you.