He’s in a coma, dire straits,
Only fifty, holding on hard
Pray, she begged, pray for us.  

Memories assail , tormenting,
Tousled hair, constant curiosity,
Gentle hugs, thoughtful gifts.  

I am old, used up and yet here,
Staying on. We shiver at the text’s
Ring in fear for him with years left.  

CPR, two hospitals, stints, surgery,
Cranial pressure, the words pile up
With no relief, no room to breathe.  

Where to turn, what to do, feel
When the impossible is right there
Taunting those with clinched fists
And hurt  deep drenched in liquid fear.  

My precious nephew,Olin Benjamin Gentry,
lost his fight yesterday on a routine business trip . . .
Comforts flee