I Stop

Each time, I sleep,
I wake –
Having dreamt of you,
Smiling,
Sharing,
Caring,
Fighting.
I stop sleeping.

I do my work,
Think of how you helped
And encouraged.
I stop work.

I rearrange clothes
And find a pair of your socks
You forgot behind.
They are black,
With white hearts on them.
I stop rearranging.

I go for a bath
To soothe my body.
Look at your shelves
Filled with shampoos and creams,
Two toothbrushes, bent and bristly
And I want to throw them out.
Instead –
I stop bathing.

I go onto social media
And the first thing I check
Are your profiles…
I smile at the picture of a pizza you posted,
Wonder, if you ever check my feed,
And wonder at my smile.
I stop smiling.

I sit with my family
To talk about life.
Each one who loves you
Talk of what happened,
They wonder and they rage.
I stop talking.

Night falls and I dread
Lying down in bed.
I feel trapped and choke.
I cry.
Eventually,
I nod off…
…to dream.
I stop sleeping.

Promises

Promises have no small print.
They are to be weighed with care.
They are not mere words spoken.
They prove only truth not dare.

They act as a sacrament:
A foundation set in stone:
Love’s finger codes each of them,
Fate makes each of them atone.

They are providential:
They become subject to suit
Even the smallest flower,
When it was yet just a root.

Promises are marks of love,
Just hunger is what they ease.
They mark a higher power,
For hope is what they increase.