Friday, November 07, 2008

Out of Control

Out of Control

Today, my mother is scheduled to die from a lethal dose
of poison.  Her begging for death has finally paid off.
I want to get to the nursing home before she goes
to say goodbye, to say I love you.  But the roads are snowy
and slick.  As I turn to the left, up a long hill, the car slides
backwards, faster and faster, slipping into the left lane.
I panic, stab around with my toe, can't find the brakes.
Cars fly past on both sides.  I can't even steer
into my own lane. I slide out of control.  Finally,
I find the brake, pump it enough to slow the car, and start
back up the long hill toward my mother's death.
I am afraid I'll be late; she'll already be gone
and I won't get to say goodbye.

Mary Stebbins Taitt

I want to say goodbye to my mother.
I am out of control.
I am sliding backwards.  Backsliding.
I am going the wrong way.
I am in the wrong place.
I can't find the brakes.
I am afraid I will be late
I am afraid I won't get to say goodbye.
I am worried about my mother's death.

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