You didn’t have to go, you know
I did enjoy having you around,
and I am sorely missing you now.
They said the odds of you
leaving, of even planning a departure
were small, but what did they know.
They didn’t know that I
had traits that would make
your departure more likely.
They didn’t say that once
the word was uttered, a departure
was no doubt inevitable, a when not if.
I’d like to think you’ll come back
but everyone agrees you cannot
absent some sort of miracle.
But at least, for now, I still
have your twin, and I will treasure
him as long as I can see to do so.
We sit in the waiting room,
for we have grown accustomed
to waiting for so many things,
not wanting to rush a life that
appears ever more finite in duration.
We stare at our phones, struggling
to see, to help bide the time, an irony
not lost for we are here because
our vision is problematic or worse.
Erasmus said the one-eyed man
is King in the land of the blind,
and many here hope for that
period of regency before they, too
become common citizens
of a land they hoped never to see.
It is progressing, but that
should not come as a surprise to you,
for they told you it would happen
and you accepted that as a fact.
It is the speed at which it has progressed,
much faster than you imagined,
what was once clear, now vague
ever more amorphous, half already
effectively gone, and the other half?
I imagine what would happen, will
happen when the other begins
the same journey, nothing known
to impede it, and how the four
remaining senses might fill the abyss
that the departure of sight
will leave in its growing shadow.