I.C.U. A Poem to say good-bye.
By Kirstie Segarra November 2019
I see you, Dad,
Lying there—plastic tubes extending
With syncopated beeps.
Spirit floats above, as I enter
With my medicine bundle—I see you.
I see you, as Mom wanders,
Lost and confused—stating,
“I have never done this before”.
I see you, I touch your hand,
Warm still with pulse—I.C.U.?
I light a candle, placed in window
With sage and feathers to help
You find the way out of your shell.
Bill Evans drifts through the room,
Mom is seated on your left hand
And me holding your right hand
That delivers a gentle squeeze—
I think it is the Jazz.
I track, as that is what I do.
I listen to your heart beat,
Pulse of blood retracting from the capillaries,
As your hand grows cold.
I feel you.
I feel you as your energy
Constricts and withdraws from
Limb to center.
I feel your breath leave,
Like a dew drop on a leaf.
I see you.
September 15, 2019 11:26 pm.