The first death I witnessed.
|A Time of Going Away
The rushing men filled the doorway,
Pushed through our doors a woman, small and grey
Now shrunken somehow
Hovering two feet above
Her flaccid body, cooling skin
Her very last soul anchor
Vibrating, threatening to come apart.
Somebody said her name
And it was some kind of end.
Hushed and hurried in our circle of light
Pushing our potions too late
Too late for the survival rite.
Three more electric charms
And she floated away.
Leaving behind flatness
Leaving behind alarms
Leaving us behind to cover her
To put away vanity, tubes and wires
Unhook the frivolous machines.
Leaving us behind with visions,
To marvel at the warmth of our hands,
To lament our own breath.