Petal by petal, she wanes
Ever so quietly
Like a waking consciousness succumbing
To sleep,
I now understand the bitterness
Of one's last breath.
But why, why does it render such
Pain? Is not death
Beautiful?
The withering of all
Sufferings and endurance, the
Beginning of one's revelation,
And yet again...
Maybe
If I turn her into a poem,
If I can etch her essence into
Pen and paper, she will live on;
They said words were powerful.
I only want her to be strong.
Live on,
Live on,
Please live on...
To my popo.(2016)*
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 2:17 AM UTC
Petal by petal, she wanes
Ever so quietly
Like a waking consciousness succumbing
To sleep,
I now understand the bitterness
Of one's last breath.
But why, why does it render such
Pain? Is not death
Beautiful?
The withering of all
Sufferings and endurance, the
Beginning of one's revelation,
And yet again...
Maybe
If I turn her into a poem,
If I can etch her essence into
Pen and paper, she will live on;
They said words were powerful.
I only want her to be strong.
Live on,
Live on,
Please live on...
To my popo.(2016)*
To my beautiful Grandma.
