“Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe
with no foot in it,”
sinking in the armchairs
of the waiting room. Death is written in the eyes
of the nurses as they ask the family to step
into a private room.
It likes to be announced from the lips
of knowledgeable doctors suggesting
the logical move. It caresses all the other faces
that stare at the bright yellow doors
waiting for a miraculous recovery.
Death lingers in the walls
it flickers with the lights
it rises with each machine-assisted breath
it sways to the singing of family members
before it steals the last dance.
Death slips into the brain as the switches
are flipped to OFF, and it fights animal
instincts as the mortal body convulses
with the effort of breathing with no
support. Death wins.
The singing, praying and tears of loved ones
will not stop death from stealing the last forced gasp
It is the thief that will take
the soul out of your bones, and the robber
of your loved ones.