Second Night

A diya, a picture and ashes,
All that’s left of your life,
And the memories you made,
The love you gave, despite strife.

What’s the use of my tears
Shed now before this light?
You’ve left and I’ve failed
To keep a grip this quiet night.

I didn’t falter seeing your meds,
Or your clothes, or your food,
I laughed with Zuri and a friend –
I thought I was doing good.

But morning came and I
Turned to your ashes and face;
I saw the diya flickering,
And I collapsed without grace.

How do I know love’s here,
Though you have died?
I feel it in each sob,
In each tear I just cried.

Our Love

I let you go today;
I let you go, to sleep;
You are not in pain now
I, yet alive, must weep –

I cry for the love I had:
That which you showered on me;
I bid Death take it away
And it can no longer be –

I saw your body burn –
I saw the love you gave die –
I have met Death before –
I no longer ask why.

If I asked it of you,
I know you would stay –
Alive, you hobbled to me,
Though cancer barred your way. 

But I sought peace for you –
Love makes it very sad –
I had you put to sleep,
Now it drives me mad –

You’re no longer in pain 
So Death commands I weep –
Because as I let you go –
Our love I get to keep. 

The Bitter Watches of the Night

I know what I have seen,
In the bitter watches of the night;
I know where my hands have been,
As they soothe your body in its fight.

I know what pain you bear,
As the cancer eats away at you;
I know what oath awaits me there —
To relinquish what love must do.

I’ve lost pieces of my heart before —
Five weeks gone, had Death cast his spell;
Yet I must again beg at his door,
Where painless mercy chooses to dwell.

It is for us, I keep you with me still –
Breathing and loving and aching –
But I must, by sheer force of will,
Think on your peace in his taking.

I have loved you and will always,
You’re my curmudgeon, my daughter –
This love is what stays, my child,
Long after you are dust and water.