Hanging On

My sister is fighting for her life. She's been bed-ridden for more than three years now. She is so weak that we never informed her that my aunt and my mother, to whom she was very close, have passed away lest she goes into depression which might have caused her early passing.

Like me, she is diabetic and has been one since I was a small child. Too bad that diabetes is an affliction for the hard-headed, she ate with gusto even if she knew it's bad for her. Her organs, most especially her kidneys are failing now. Edema has set in and she's very bloated and is no longer cognizant of her surroundings. Her eldest daughter who resides with her family in the States has come home to be reunited with her mother. All we can do now is pray and request that friends and acquaintances do, too. Please say a little prayer for her tonight. Thank you.


Hanging On

Her eyes have long held had that empty stare.
She gazes through you, seeing nothing
or as if trying hard
to figure out who stands near her.

Not today. As a matter of fact,
they even hinted a smile
as she looks at the tree beside her window.

Two birds land on the tree with a mouthful.

She hears chirps or are they cries for help?

She can only guess these are hungry birdlings

for she's been bed-ridden for years.

The doctor arrives toting a grocery bag
filled with medications.
He touches her hand, carefully makes a tourniquet
out of surgical gloves,
starts looking for her veins.

The tweeting becomes fainter and soon stops

as the pair of birds regurgitate and feed

their young.

His task proves to be harder than usual.
He taps her with his fingers several times
but no success. He tries the other hand
to see if he can find the elusive carrier of blood.

All flesh and bones, feathers scarce, their veins

visible and look like they might explode

at the lightest touch.

They nibble and munch never leaving any morsels

to be strong for the coming weeks.

Her husband transfers the food from blender
to the canister. Begins to pound on an anti-biotic
he shreds into tiny pieces to fit the tube.
The doctor finds a vein and pricks it with a needle.
The thrust is like a stab in his heart. This is his mother.

He connects the tube with the IV
and thinks about the birdlings in the nest.
Soon, those birds will learn to fly,
while she will have to close her eyes.


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My sister passed away this afternoon, June 21, 2008. She is now at peace and with our Lord. Thank you for your prayers.