the day i saw my mother's soul
she was tied to her hospital gurney -
her mouth cracked open and dry,
lips and teeth bloodied rusty brown.

i called her name, and for god only knows
what reason, she turned her head toward me.
nightmarish.  eyes deadened.  glassy.
blue irises.  yellowed whites.  dull.  lifeless.

she weeps.  moaning and tossing in her bed.
she can't speak but her eyes beg 'save me, i'm hurting,
i'm dying,' as she looks-but-doesn't-see me.
i don't know that i can save her

and to be honest: part of me is trying.
but another part has learned how to live
without her.  just to be safe (after all - do you know
how sad it is to grieve the loss of the living?).

i know i've hurt her.
maybe more than she's hurt me.
and i'm ******* ****** at the cosmic way this
is playing out.  no one wins.  what a *******.

the day i saw my mother's soul
i sat in my car and cried all the way home.
"the light that you could never see;
it burns inside you can't take that from me."

if she only lives to tell.