The doctor’s words weave through the air
by Adrian B.
· 26/02/2026
Published 26/02/2026 17:19
The doctor’s words weave through the air,
a quiet diagnosis wrapped tight like a noose,
yet here in my chest, a familial care,
a legacy of burdens I can’t excuse.
My grandmother’s eyes, fierce yet frail,
a photograph’s weight clings to the walls,
she fought through her life, though her hands would fail,
and I wonder, in shadows, who else falls.