My eyes meet yours and
I am astounded, by my own ignorance.
When was it.....
that your face became so small?
Or is it that......
your brown eyes became larger?
Willing you not to
turn, and catch me staring crazily at you
and as you turn.....
surely that yellowing is the light?
I stare at you.......
just as long as I dare.
Frantically drinking in
your beloved face, to brand it on my brain.
Determined effort.....
to make a memory.
Muted glances and whispered talking,
I hear words like......
tumours, metastases.
No! These words are worthless.
You are my darling.
No appendices please.
I try to envisage
this inky, tenacious, intrusiveness
as if I can......
by recognition
identify a method of destruction.
I implore a higher being....
sotto voce
Not now.
One,
five......
ten years time?
But please......
not now.
How will I stand?
How will I walk life's tightrope,
without......
my ever present safety net.
Who will catch me now?
Grief.....
makes me selfish.
I want to cradle you,
as I once cradled my newborn.
Yet I must content myself......
with holding your dear hands.....
as you held my heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a precious gift you had/have! I envy you a parent, despite your pain and anguish. They say the pain and anguish will fade. I have yet to discover that, with regard to Flicka, my beloved horse - and he has been in Heaven for 8 years (on 28 April 2009) . However, I am quiver-grateful and humbled that I was the chosen mother of the most wonderful horse in the world for 20½ years and that I knew him for 2 years before that. Your poem is beautiful, sensitive, compassionate and so very real and alive.