You still believe in one more scan,
In treatments, trials, another plan.
I smile for you, but inside, I’ve gone
Someplace where hope has moved along.

Memorize the numbers, the charts,
Read every line until it hurts your heart.
You cling to the doctors’ forced out "maybe"—
In your pain, it’s still you — my stubborn baby.

Your hands are steady, but mine shake,
You forge the path I cannot take—
You still hold on, still make your plans,
While I’m unraveling, slipping sands.

I watch you fight what I can’t save,
The strength you show, always so brave.
You press on, though I can’t pretend
That love can stop this nearing end.

Because if it could, you’d never die
Never grace the castle in the sky
My love would keep you hear with me
My joy, my world, my sweet baby.

This author has chosen to publish anonymously. They share that they are the caregiver for their adult child with a terminal illness, and that they wrote this poem while reflecting on how they have struggled to hold onto hope, while their child’s resolve “seems unbreakable.”