DEAD SON

DEATH WATCH.

You lay there
on the bed
with tubes and wires
coming from body and head.  

 

Tubes from mouth and nose,
eyes, those large eyes,
bright, laughing, kind,
now closed seemingly
in deep sleep.

 

You unaware
we were there,
we who loved you
and would have tipped
the scales of the world
to have you safe
and back with us,
who would have given you
limbs or body parts or eyes,
would have searched
the dark corridors of death
to have brought you back,
back with us, us whom
you loved and who loved you.

 

You lay there still and silent,
the day unfolding,
the artificial light betraying
the hours passing,
the minutes ticking away,
the hushed conversations
between us who watched
and waited, talks to you,
the telling of how things
had been and would be again;
clutching at hope like some rope,
wishing you on, watching
the dials of the machine,
the flashing lights, the hums,
the sounds, and you so still,
Stoic until the end, your
puffed up body, tinged with blue;
your hands, warm, soft,
which we took turns to hold,
arms which would have once
embraced, now still, unmoving,
touched, as if we might wake you,
see your large eyes open,
that hint of a smile, your smile,
that infamous smile and spread of lips.

 

You lay on the bed, tubed and wired,
unaware we were there watching
from the shore towards a deep sea
of approaching dark unbelievable death,
or maybe you were aware of us
standing or sitting there, taking
your last walk amongst us, unseen,
touching us, brushing a hand
against us as you passed,
and we unaware of you going by,
right until the last second of time
as we watched you die.

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