By Zia Marshall
You can’t see or hear it!
On occasion you may feel it
as it sweeps over you softly.
But if it were to vanish…
Why the world as we know it
would cease to exist.
You can’t see or hear it, you say!
Why I heard it for the first time,
as I was stirring the soup
before serving up her dinner.
The hoarse bellow of the machine;
a lung-like cry punctuating the silence
of the room with its rasping voice.
I take comfort in the sound,
for I know she lies in bed.
Supine, as the machine does
the work she once did
so effortlessly.
I watch the rise and fall
of her chest
as the machine pumps in
sweet air, breath after breath.
What a beautiful sound!
The sound of life
blending with the love
I feel for her
As I watch over her silently….