Seventh night of flaming light in our home.
Watching the women dance in the flame,
playing their instruments, background to the light.
Gratitude, always Gratitude.
Marsha and I have been through a mighty test.
She diagnosed with cancer, survived the brute
chemo radiation hell.
"If one survives this burning, cell killing poison
they must be meant to live,"
I commented to one of her doctors.
He just smiled.
Me losing my oldest and last sister.
We used to be three.
Issue of same mother and father.
Womb blood, blood of childhood fights, blood
of Mine.
There at her death. Holding squeezing her hand
to let her know my presence.
She did.
She squeezed back even as she gasped for air
in her last days.
Every last bit of her strength was given up to breathe.
Every last bit of her strength squeezed out of her
each hour each minute
she fought
for air.
She fought for hours
till finally
the rattle
the tell tale sounds of the end.
I held onto her hand to the end.
Until it was over.
I've been Blessed with
Being Present at the death of
both of my sisters.
Blessed with holding them
long after their last
breath.
What a year we've had.
I am grateful that we can give light to Women Playing
silent tunes
with these miracle flames.
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