Tonight I close my eyes,
holding the terrible knowledge that as I sleep
one hundred angels will tug with all their might,
and someone's child miles away
will be replaced by a handful of memories.
My heart swells with pain,
and sleep feels sick and selfish.
How can my life go on when one is about to cease?
I can only dream of a sweet face laced with tubes.
Tonight his fight is scheduled to end.
I dread the morning, when I will open my eyes to grief,
knowing his sighs tapered as I slept.
No more pain. Only peace.