Whishing oxygen pumps through tubes disappearing thru your lips.

IVs in clusters, and monitors with sticky pads connect to your body.

The beeps, clicks and whooshes of life support break the quiet.

This surreal scene meets my eye in a morbid replay of other vigils.

We've both been present before in this tragically familiar scene.

How many years ago did I cry and beg God for your life?

I never thought to return to this place after I escaped our union.

With you nothing changes.

You were as unresponsive then as you are now.

Why is pity flooding me when I watch your broken form?

You, who once caused missed beats in my own heart, now lie inert.

Numb acquiesence saturates my senses.

I regret the pain this causes our children, and so I pray for you.  

You are the father of my sons, and I have never wished you harm.

My only desire was to give you pleasure my whole life long.

You were the one who made other plans.

With you nothing changes.

Whishing oxygen pumps through tubes disappearing thru your lips.  

You never acknowledge my presence--not then and not now.

Turning, I leave behind a brief touch and a prayer for recovery.

Only God can reach you now, as He has reached out to you before.

I leave you the way you left us--without a backward glance.

Just as then, my exit from your life makes no impression on you.

You give the same answer to every problem we ever faced--silence.

With you nothing ever changes.

Whishing oxygen pumps...

Author's note:  The day I visited ICU I placed my hand on him for the first time in 12 years and only then to pray for his healing.  Momma was there with me, touching him, praying for him.  He lay inert for three weeks.  All the family had gathered in and our sons slept in sleeping bags on the floor of the waiting room for days on end hoping for a miracle.  Death was eminent, but God had the last word.  When he woke up, he told a story that I've only heard secondhand.  He said that he went to Hell, and two white horses pulled him out.  I'm told that he takes his new family to church three times a week and he drives the Sunday School bus.  It hasn't even been a year since the scene I described here transpired.  I have another prayer now.  I pray he mends some fences with our children...

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kat's picture

Wow. Pretty powerful, Jessica.
Someone got lucky.