and this weight
is heavy
at the back of my mind,
(push it down.
keep it at bay.)
in the pit of my stomach.
(take a deep breath.
push it down.)

Distracted for a time,
when I stop,
I wonder why
everything is so onerous.
and then it hits me again —
the dread.

Will I know
when it’s time to say good-bye?
Will I be able to let go?

Is that look an appeal
or confusion?
Is there pain?
I wish you could tell me.
But your eyes speak
and I’m afraid.
I hear your ragged breathing
and I fear what comes next.

It’s inevitable.
It hurts.
But I will be there
and hold you
and whistle
in the face of death.



Day Twenty-Nine:   Take one of your favorite poems and find a very specific, concrete noun in it.  Use that word as a building block for a new poem.