As your
bedsheets
rise and fall
and your heart is
skipping beats
you're not
lying here

and I'm not
watching you
slowly make
your way to
the pearly gates
clutching onto
your robes

When your eyes are closed
you're in a field
somewhere
leaning on your
old red car
or drawing a charcoal
deer across
the way,
sketching in her
eyes with lead
devotion

with each
rise and fall
you're mimicking
the sun and moon
and you're alive
in every field
in every mountain
in every patch of
dandelions
that I gave you,
as a child

as your bedsheets
rise and fall
and your body's
shutting down
and you don't see me
and
I don't see you

know that I
will take your hand.
I will hold your bony
fingers and
squeeze your
frightened wings

and guide you
into every
meadow,
every pasture,
every field of
splendent gold
that you
ever hoped to
live in.