hope
We sat in silence
in Room 1220,
the bustling of the nurses feet
and the machines
around us filled the space.
beep, beep, beep.
On other sides of the room
as we awaited
your final return.
The hope from his mother
filled the air,
his life flashing before her eyes,
and all she wanted for his future,
her bright, shining boy.
I wish I could have
shared that with her,
sitting in the chair by the window.
I could not see him
in that future.
A mere shadow
stood across from me
at the altar.
An empty figure
sat with me at the dinner table,
and next to me at the bar.
A clouded presence
was all I saw
when I was teaching my children
to cook our family meal.
I knew he was gone,
and I had 32 more minutes
until I was proven right.
Until then,
we sat in silence.
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