An old man,
sleeping in a hospital bed,
recovering from bypass surgery,
moaning as he labors to breathe.
The nurse checking his IV
sees he is clutching a teddy bear
to his chest –
a gift from his granddaughter.

A young woman,
shaking uncontrollably,
gasping, choking, struggling for breath,
overtaken by tears
as thoughts of her future
wash over her;
waves of eternal high tide.

A young man,
standing over the bathroom sink,
getting ready for work,
rolling up his sleeves.
He feels the air in his lungs,
the beating of his heart.
The door is unlocked –
he doesn’t push as hard
with the blade of the pocketknife.

A twin,
born too early
to breathe on her own.
Connected to a confusion of tubes,
pumping oxygen, nutrients, sugars
into her frail form.
She is the firstborn,
luckier than her brother.

We,
who carry our mortality about with us,
long for the old to pass away,
yearn for day to break,
ache for all to be made new.

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