Like a wounded bird you sit propped
in a hospital bed in the middle
of your bedroom, beloved Siamese cat
at your side, the sound of oxygen
pumping, a long plastic lifeline
connected to the machine which helps you
breathe, thumping melodic sounds --
background music to the rhythms of
your heart.
You are angered and saddened by this disease
called ALS that robs you of your life and
your fifty years as a dancer.
Long-legged beauty shown in photos
on the wall, face the light, next to
grinning grandchildren.
You say that you are afraid of dying.
Afraid of the unknown.
So together we close our eyes and try
to imagine a place where you are whole,
where your limbs move at your command.
Where you take your mother's hand
and dance again.
Josie Rodriguez, Waiting Rooms of the Heart: Poems of a Health Care Chaplin (iUniverse, Inc., 2005)
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