Trying To Figure Out Who I Am Now, With You So Nearly Gone. Poem by Robin D McCutcheon

You lay in your hospital bed, pale and listless,
with the poppies and delphiniums brightly beaming life
on the nightstand beside the bed.

I rub baby lotion on your feet, between your toes, on your elbows, your hands,
like I used to, here in our own bed.
You do not revel in the pampering as you once did. It does not brush away the pain like it used to. The pedicure I gave you 3 weeks ago will probably be the last you ever receive.
Your smile is hard to raise. Your eyes have lost their sparkle. You protect me from the truth you know, and I know, but you believe to be your secret. Your last one.

I say you will be back home in a week or two. You pretend you believe it could be true.
I pretend to believe you believe.

Already I am lost at home. You are only a few miles away, and I can go see you twice a day, or anytime. What will I do in a few days or weeks when you are no longer there in the antiseptic white room? Where will I find you then? How will I calm my breaking heart when you are really gone?

Who will I be then? I am already miserable and alone.