Daily she sleeps late, later and later,
sneak previews of life without her blessings.
Many blessings she has given to me,
over many years we’ve spent together.
As happens, we were wounded as children.
As happens, we both helped each other heal.
We slept in an imaginary forest,
blanketed with leaves, wrapped ‘round each other.
That’s only some of miracles we’ve shared.
The pain of birth was hers; the joy was ours.
Strong loving babies grown to loving adults,
women whom we love sharing our lives with.
Martha’s friends have felt her love and power,
generous laughter shared and multiplied,
dancing on tables, celebrating “Wild Side”;
sorrows also shared in deep compassion.
Sometimes misunderstood we fought each other,
stormy seas subsiding to calm waters,
floating us as we found lover’s meanings.
Back in touch we made our way to shore.
We don’t know how long meds will hold her death off.
Treatment teams work miracles themselves.
Ace doctor gives life-prolonging poison.
We give each other life-affirming love.
~ Wry Welwood
July 2024,
previously published as part of a poetry prompt in Scrittura, on the writers’ platform Medium.
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So amazingly true. A wonderful synopsis of a wonderful life. How fortunate for both of you. The ending is always near, we just never know how near. Hugs to both of you.