I've come to know the
hospital well
the stale smells
the nurses names and stories
the hand sanitizer
the countless quiet
nervous
elevator rides
stuff like that
I could even write a full review
of the cafeteria food
should this hospital
have it's own newspaper.
There's been too many sad days
but I find myself laughing
as she shows off her blonde
extravagant wig
The doctors and nurses
Fall in love with her
her energy
her aura
As most people do
They laugh with her
And cry with her
And hope with her
People come in
They say
things will be fine
things will get better
My mom grows weary
She's heard this since stage two
They say
keep up the fight
But seen as a fight
Her getting sicker only implies
she is not fighting hard enough
that she is losing
nothing can **** hope quicker
but she shrugs it off
She doesn't need some
greeting card or nylon balloons
or some
half-assed healer
or some gurus blowing
smoke from burning sage
She needs authenticity
connection
meaning
She needs to be told things are awful
And probably won't get better
She needs complete vulnerability
on both ends
She needs real
Which is hard to find
in a lot of places
and faces
and words
an hour with her though
she would get it out of you
the 'you' that you didn't even know
she touched lives beyond
whatever I ever imagined capable
There are many ways
I wish to be like her
but most
is to be able to smile
as real
and transparent
as she did
when I am about to die.