I WAS THE LAST WORD
As you inhaled your final breath,
no longer clinging to health,
you spoke a vivid memory of me
—
Like a plea for one more moment,
or one last chat, soft and free.
Though I wasn’t there,
you gave me your last piece of air.
You spoke of my soft,
shy hug,
as if it were a saving drug.
And as you laid on your deathbed,
I prayed with my pink rosary beads
that you’d pull through instead.
Getting that call—
he’s gone—
left me grasping for air,
Like grief had hands
and wrapped them around my chest.
A moment I thought was so small,
you treated as if I’d saved you
from a great and silent fall.
__________________________________________
Want to try your hand at poetry? Email me at poeticiapoems@gmail.com
Featured image credits to Bryan Zimmerman on Pixabay
