Your eyes, now almost sightless,
Heavy-lidded as you struggle to recognise the shadowy shapes before you,
Were once bright and sparkling with the love of life.
Eyes, the mirror of the mind
reflect your confusion; your anxiety;
your fear-filled isolation.
Your limbs, once strong.
Once able to care for eight children
Are now weak and useless
And those hands!
Those hands that sewed and knitted.
That created such articles of delight
That you couldn’t work fast enough
To satisfy the demand.
Those hands now shake uncontrollably.
“How long does it take to die?” you asked.
There is no death, Mom, I answer.
Only the spirit’s jettisoning of the body.
And your spirit will one day soar
With the rewards of a life filled with love.