She wakes up with a start-
Tacit fear in her eyes.
Another nightmare-but I know
That a hug would suffice.

Holding her in my arms I think
Of the first time I’d held her.
Holding her in my arms I think
It might the last time- I shiver.

This makes her look up
To see if I were fine
And lift the weight of her hand-
Tangled in pipes and wires- and place it in mine.

I hold back the silent tear
And the muffled cry.
Helpless, my girl, how helpless!
I can’t save you whatever may I try.

The sanitised scent makes me
Furious at this unfair game.
This tender age-an unblossomed flower
Plucked by the disease with no name.

I know you feel what I do
Child, as you look through your hair’s net,
Because the last words you utter before sleeping-
**“Mama, I don’t wanna go yet.”