I listen to the artificial breathing of the respirator.
I watch his heartbeat go up and down.
I feel his pain as an IV is put in.
I squeeze his hand and kiss his cheek.
I will be strong for Jonas.

“I’ll be okay,” He assures me,
But I hear the weakness of his voice.
I see the fear in his eyes
AS the nurse drags his gurney away.
I have to be strong for Jonas.

“I love you!” I shout, but the door has closed.
Warm, salty tears trickle down my cheeks.
Seconds, then hours, pass away.
The clock constantly tells me something's wrong.
I don’t think I can be strong for jonas.

“It’s time to go,” My parents say.
I don’t want to leave.
But I accept my brother won’t be coming home again.
I wish I had been stronger for Jonas.