Author’s note: I wrote this poem in my early 20s (about seven years ago), when I was told that my beloved maternal grandmother was dying of cancer. It was an extremely turbulent time in my life, as my rock begun to erode before my eyes. This is a poem for anyone who is going through the suppressing heartache of uncertainty, relating to the pain and suffering of a loved one experiencing illness.
Droplets of my soul run down my face,
leaving a salty trail in their wake,
wrenching my insides,
turning my life upside down.
Fear and uncertainty fill the gaps in my consciousness.
Worry. Worry for her, for those around her—for me?
Worry for the family that is;
what shall become of it?
Uncertainty envelopes me in a mournful cloud.
Grief and sadness redden my eyes,
as droplets of my soul run down my face.
These droplets—they are not gone.
They are recycled as they soak back into the flesh of my flushed cheeks.
Is this the cycle of life?
Could this be a message of hope?
I try to hope, to pray, to believe,
but really I am not certain of anything,
and all that I’m certain of is that which I’m not,
and what I’m not certain of is that which I am.
So, all I can do is hope,
as salty droplets of my soul run down my face.