Near The End

Four months and two weeks after

seeing her, for what might’ve been

the last time, we are honored to

be able to see Aunt Agnes again.

It is Mother’s Day—surely this day

she is taking some of her last

breaths, her eyes only slightly open,

as she continues to sleep the sleep

of Wednesday, uninterrupted.

Mary Jo, ever tenderly present,

fields calls in the hallway,

prepares for the inevitable end

of this phase of both of their lives—

and for the gathering of the clan—

for the release of the breaths held-in

and welled-up tears that will surely

fall when she crosses to the other

side of that narrow hallway.

Agnes must have felt like the eternity

was on this side the last few months—

some kind of purgatorial tarmac, or

red tape foul-up regarding her freedom

to move on from here. Perhaps, it was the

other way around. Was she hanging back

with her dear dear family, not wanting to

see all of their hearts so heavy at once?

In our yard, the late afternoon sun

pours a strange spotlight on the lone

bleeding hearts standing tall amongst

the gang of shaded pachysandra,

lying low, in their usual places.