Now it is I who watch you, helpless, in
Your body tortured by virus upon virus,
knowing full well that it was I who broke
your immunity, wracking those months
with strain and worry – clutching our
family together against poverty and
You have paid with your health. Your
own mind depressed and exhausted
despite its relief – your body – taxed
to the point that it has no reserves to
defend itself from even the most
basic of germs.
It is a tale of fairytale love in which
you have sacrificed your blood for
my survival, yet, I wonder if I can
live with the price; the transference
of pain, and consider whether you
would have done better to have let
me go, and whether I have the
strength to watch you suffer,
as you have done for me.
A poem about the difficulty and helplesness of watching someone you love suffer from illness.