I cling to his hand while he clings to life

His view is the woodland with death his midwife

His eyes see something I cannot comprehend

Each finished stage whispers goodbye

Wordlessly he measures towards his inevitable end

While sorrow bows my head, trying not to cry

Time spent together fills my thoughts undaunted

“Be with what was.” My spirit tells me quietly

Flooding me with memories, what I knew of him is wanted

I reject the wisdom I am given, holding on to him defiantly

His breathing rustles his lungs so deeply, erratic in its spurts

He’s giving in completely, “Oh Adonai, this hurts!”