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Fighting, Crying, Talking. Three poems by L.P. Masters

By L.P. Masters with permission from The Conversation Project


Do you remember all the fights we had?

What were they even about?

"Eat your dinner!"

"Go to bed!"

"Stop screaming!"

What would you give to have those petty fights again?

Now they feed her dinner through a tube.

She's always in this hospital bed.

And oh! If only she had the energy to scream again!

They say we're fighting, but it looks like we're losing.

We used to have the whole world

And we sent her to her room.

Now our whole world

Is this sterile room.

What did we do with her when we had her?

Not much.

We mostly fought.


I can't speak.

I don't want to.

Words choke in my throat.

I can't believe we'll lose her.

I can't even harbor the thought.

Too few short years ago

She came into our lives,

Too few short days from now

She will no longer be alive.


Don't speak to me.

Don't talk.

I just



Making plans

For that day

Asking what she wants.

It still is hard,

But now I see

It brings her comfort,

(And also me.)

I never thought we'd laugh so much,

I never thought we'd cry

Without it feeling so painful.

The crying just feels right.

She's still so young

But so grown up

My girl's become a woman.

She's brave, she's strong,

Much more than me,

That much goes without saying.

I gave her a chance

To say what she needed.

I listened to her words.

I cared enough

About her life

To talk about her death.

Reprinted with permission by The Conversation Project /



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