The Final Silence (100 words)

There are days I don’t want to ANYTHING. I want to quit fighting aches and age and my own ignorance. I want to lie still, in a bed, and stare at the ceiling and wait for the final silence.

I am old enough to greet it; I am the age my father was when he greeted the final silence. He surrendered after he buried my mother, but he had longed for it years prior to his surrender.

But I am not my father; the day passes, and the next finds me struggling to touch one more person, learn one more thing.


About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
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