Soul Orbit

The world melts away when I'm with the dying.
As the soul orbits the body,
waiting to be released.
Only God knows when.
Not even the soul
can leave until it is allowed.
The air is delicate as it is met 
with the short breaths of the 
one in the bed,
mingled with my prayers.
Like the woman today
who danced with death
in this life
not ready to let go fully,
but willing because of the pain.
As she breathed in and out
I prayed over her.
And I knew she could hear me 
because her hand squeezed mine.
No one was with her,
so I told her how 
loved she was 
and I talked to her about God—
and promised he loved her.
Then I had to walk away and 
leave the orbit.
Back to living.
Sometimes it seems so unfair.
I guess that's what it means 
to be human.