Bland Hope

“After the MRI comes back, those doctors
Can figure out what’s wrong and
Finally get him to wake up again”
A bland hope that
Doesn’t even make it past the hospital walls.
We’re in our own universe now
Created not from anguish but because
We are not in the habit of your absence

Breathing Machine

Your relationship
With the breathing machine
Gradually turned into a symbiosis
More and more present in you

You needed it, of course
But it doesn’t have a purpose without you

Family sit around, I can hear your voice in theirs.

I wonder
Without you
What are we?

Infinite Distance

From dust, to dust.
Atop the roots of a small tree of life
My mother and I
Are a rich, fertile soil
Into which your hands dig
I can see you now; you look young.

With a grunt, you
Leave us your best traits.
An unrefined mass of commitment
And a fashion of work that
Makes the pain go away in time

Wheat Field

I pray that I’ll see you
In the field amongst the heat and hazy distance
As golden life reaches to your hands

You look younger in my dreams.
Maybe when I see you,
You will smile, like you used to.