Respirator | poem


As I lay on my bed trying to sleep,
watching the clock ticking by,
I realised that it’s getting harder and harder,
to quiet the cries I have inside.

Knowing that I can lose my mom at any time,
with many things that I’ve yet to do for her,
cuts me with despair.
As I lay defeated;
a fish gasping for air.

An image of myself down on the ground I see,
the only thing helping me to breathe,
is The Word of God,
the Holy Spirit,
my Father,
my Lord,
my Jesus—the Holy Trinity.

He is the respirator coursing through my veins
keeping my spirits alive
in a steady hum
and with assuring beats,
breathing life into me.

Writer’s note:

I wrote this during one difficult night, praying for sleep to come, as I need to drive a four hours journey back to my hometown to see my mum who’s suffering from cancer.

I felt like I’m on a respirator. And it’s keeping me alive with precious oxygen. I can hear my breathing.

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