Thursday, March 29, 2012


I hear your gurgles and Iwonder if you're dying today.
Then, startled you awaken and call my name, as if
I'm your source of everything. I reassure that all's well
for now and you resume your lung's sick cacophony
whose ugliness makes me yearn for a lullaby.

But you never knew how to sing to me. And now
any song's inaudible behind the noise of disease.
It chomps so loud, munching tired cellular embroidery
in your head, erasing everything - except you
the one I never knew.

The disease deceived, thinks its noise a winner.
I shrug helplessly, knowing it has won a lot.
But due to its pernicious intensity, eliminating
all static from your mind,
it has revealed your soul, translucent.
And I know it is I, have won bigger.

I hear you clearly because you don't remember
how to hide. Your truth - beautiful,
innocent, sincere and kind flows.
And though your song is too soft now,
I can listen to the melody
within your silence.

I wrote this a few weeks ago, when my mother was at the hospital with pneumonia.
I felt the need to post something today, it's been so long. Sorry I have nothing cheerful to draw from right now.

The wait seems eternal and nobody likes to wait. But wait is all I do as I observe her increased proximity to death.

I write almost daily, but as I peruse my words, I realize I must sound morbid so I refrain from blogging. I know you understand.

Today, my mother hardly woke from a deep slumber - a prelude to her future permanent sleep. I find myself with so little to do, without even the need to help her feel more comfortable.

Somehow, I think if I attempt to read some of your posts, it will start to remind me that life goes on. So, I'll try to visit your blogs within the next few days.


  1. Dear Myrna:

    Your last two lines made me think. When I think that our posts remind you of life, we are indeed honoured to be playing this role. Big hugs, Myrna.

    Dear Myrna, somehow I think that you have the wonderful privilege of being close to your mother during this time. I will be praying for your mother and you and at this time I send across positive thoughts across ether.

    Lots of love, always.

    Joy and strength,

  2. ((hugs)) it is hard....and know my prayers are always with you...and you know what...if what you write is your life then it is if you do feel like sharing it, do....great to see you...and thoughts to you myrna

  3. It's not morbid to me Myrna... its beautiful and its real and its what life is all about. there is beauty in death just as their is in birth.

    funny how we cry coming in, but slip out peacefully....

    LOVE TO YOU (((((MONKEYME))))))

  4. Dear Myrna
    those moments you have with your mother are special..cherish each one of them.. Sending you a big hug.

  5. My dear Myrna ...I have been on a watch with my grandmother and I know how hard it is to see them struggle and know that you cannot really help. Please share what you've written - it is not morbid, it might help someone else in a similar position as you.
    Myrna, I know that this may sound harsh but it's something I have come to believe in. Sometimes the people we love need our 'permission' to go peacefully back to the Maker. As you sit with your mother, make your peace with her (I'm not suggesting you haven't), and tell her she's free to go....
    Praying for you and her with love...

  6. i used to write a diary in a very difficult time in my life...just for me...just to keep my thoughts sorted...just to keep me from drowning...and that's enough to write..meant to be read by no one..meant to be just to carry...sorry to hear you're going through such a hard time myrna...somehow i missed this post..sorry..was when i was just on my way back home from NYC and didn't check my reader... wishing you a peaceful easter..

  7. Darling Myrna,

    I'm so sorry I missed this. It's heartbreaking in its beauty and the love it expresses. God bless you.