The Pastor’s Visit

Tethered to the long green line
that runs from the tank,
she spends her time
turned toward the windows
of what she used to call
her living room.

She’s in remarkably good health for a dying woman:
nothing really hurts,
everything else works
with both mind and body.

But a few steps across the floor
leaves her gasping for air,
even with the supplemental oxygen.
Since she cannot sustain enough breath
for conversation,
she hesitates to call anyone
and the visitors have become fewer
and farther between.

I sit in the chair
where her husband died slowly
nearly ten years ago
and now it seems only half that time to me
and at least twice that long to her.

Sometimes the silence filters around us,
and we sit together,
waiting for the ending that will not come
soon enough.

We talk about loss and flowers,
blooms and seeds,
and how a ripe peach from the tree
is the only one worth eating.

H. Arnett
4/22/13

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
This entry was posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Death & Dying, Family, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetry, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The Pastor’s Visit

  1. keeberhKen says:

    “…loss and flowers,
    blooms and seeds,
    and how a ripe peach from the tree
    is the only one worth eating.”

    Perfectly communicated, my friend…

    Ken

Comments are closed.