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Momma

Dedicated to my Mother: my mentor, and muse

By Vaisa HailePublished 5 years ago 1 min read
I painted on wood with acrylics, my late maternal grandmother, Patricia Manly (manly was her maiden name) this is based off another painting of her. She died long before I was born.

I’m cold, alone, scared

It feels like I’m slipping

And I’m fighting

But

Delaying the inevitable

I think I’m dying,

My extremities are numb now

My torso is cold, the monitor is loud but distant.

My head hurts because I’m struggling to focus my vision,

I’m breathing shallow and choking back tears.

Why is the room so dark and fuzzy?

Why can’t I hear my momma coming?

Acute Renal Failure?

I don’t want to get better,

But I have to for her.

It can’t end this way

Not tonight

Not today

I start thinking my goodbyes, holding back my cries

I feel really really heavy,

Now,

Light and airy

Everything but my torso is numb,

I’m cold, scared

Alone

Lonesome

I always thought that this would come.

I’ve been disappointed before

So I gave up for

Her.

I’m fighting it,

Delaying it really,

Just long enough

To say my sorries and

Goodbyes

I thought I was

Yelling.

I tried to scream for momma

But the nurses said I didn’t say much

“Too lethargic hon,”

Hearing is the last sense to go,

Did you know?

How cruel it must be

To be going, slipping

To hear loved ones mourn

When you’re right there!

I’m here!

But you can’t speak.

I love you!

But your heart is weak.

How terrible, to be going

And gone and to think

That’s wonderful.

Please momma, I wish you

Were here, I need you to know,

But that’s it, I’m cut off

Nurses rush in,

I’m here now,

I’m trying so hard,

I see no point,

Except for her.

Momma

sad poetry

About the Creator

Vaisa Haile

I've been writing poetry since 6th grade. I write very short stories from time to time.

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