I wonder does subconscious hear a calling,
like songbirds’ urge to sing before the dawn;
sensing that there will be no denying
and no forestalling when one's time has come.
In recent days we’ve watched you shift, withdrawing—
your focus turning inward to your soul;
a bird with broken wings no longer soaring,
slipping while the decades take their toll.
There is no turning back, becoming “whole” again,
no splint to cure what age and illness wrought.
Words whispered soft, appeasing and consoling…
as you slide ever deeper into thought…
time stands still, the caged bird finds release,
our consolation—hoping you’ve found peace.
© Ginny Brannan 2016
For L, whose light and love we will carry in our hearts.