No new breath

Still processing my mother’s death some years ago, I write the odd poetry piece about it - which I find cathartic. We had a very troubled relationship which Makes grieving a very complex matter. :frowning_with_open_mouth:


“Can you see Fred, Rita?”
Were the only words spoken.

The caring nurse said them
Whilst I was consumed
by a torrent of tears
My eyes shed with shame.

My frame was rocked by
That final breath she took
As she left my World.
I should have been strong,
My spiritual understanding
Should have held my hand
In just the way I had
mentally held hers…
tucked beneath the crisp
White hospital sheets.

Instead I had stroked
Her smooth cool forehead.
Such gentle stroking
Hopefully imparting peace
And helping remove fear.
Here was the fated comma
Preceding ‘goodbye’ full stop.

These were her life’s
Final moments, predicted
By the doctor who had called
And advised me to come.

I hung on that doctor’s words,
And dared to whisper
She should not fear death
She should just ‘let go’
Her struggle, her past,
The pains she’d endured,
Her life long story
Now come to an end…
A new story just beginning.

She must have heard me.
She must have listened,
Even fully understood,
For there was no drama,
Nothing to mark the moment
Save for no new breath
following the last.

© Griffonner 2023

You can read more of my writing at

4 Points