poetic memory

Earlier this week I sat in my office heart broken and deeply missing Annie.  What replayed through my mind were the final hours Sarah and I spent with Annie.  Only she and I will ever know how excruciating it was as we held Annie knowing she was going to die. 

I don't know if the following can legitimately be called poetry.   Maybe.  Whatever it is, it reflects some of the flood of images and emotions from those last hours with her. 
 - - - - - -

touching you, feeling your rhythm
listening, watching, wondering
each pause, each gap
each one killing me as you died

hours and music, hands and tears
endless it seemed as we awaited the end
you so strong, I so proud
but still not miracle to be found

you so heavy, you--but not yourself
here but already away
so tired but how
this is the day

in and out the helpless helpers
tending, touching, crying with
and we, hopelessly holding
as eternity robbed your mortality

no more pulse--I no longer feel it
what once was, is now not
the suffering, so sudden, for you no more
so still so cold no breath in store

one more look, one final touch
naked, quiet, peaceful, beautiful
home without you
and I barely knew you.