Our Shared Grief

If our hearts are where loving

memory resides then mine is

clouded in bruised pain.  Look

closely, from the well of my eyes

springs tears I cannot restrain

in the chaos of my emotions.  Yet

we strain to honour his fear and

pain with our undivided attention

as he vibrantly ventilates in detail

describing the daily ordeal

his life has suddenly become.

Through his dread of final

physical decline arose the

neurosis compelling him to tax

his strength and endurance, in the

process inevitably exhausting his

fear yet unrealized, imposing

decay on the very body he sought

to render immune from entropy.

His most constant companions

now are his anguish over a

dim future arrived far too suddenly,

to becloud his near horizon,

accompanied by endless, grinding

hurt he is desperate to shed,

but cannot by any feasible means.

The very thought of the inevitable

distracts his steely resolve.

We listen, we empathize, we

murmur encouragement and

concern.  He does indeed look now

closely at the weeping well of my

eyes; perhaps some gratification

meets his soul as balm, little

realizing it is our pain I extrude

tears for; but if the spectacle

gives him comfort, I don't mind.