soft grumbles

A man dies of a heart attack
on Valentine’s Day?
Such an unfathomable conundrum.
While lovers hugged and kissed,
I braced myself and grieved.

As a young maiden opened her card
that came with the flowers,
I opened his casket
to put on his pin
look at him
for the last time.
Never had flowers smelled so strangely.

With sparkling eyes and a girly giggle,
she managed a smile.
I cried, shivered
and took a pill.
Never had flowers meant so strangely.

She also had her moment to spoil
a happy occasion twenty-three years after.
I had to do it all over again
two days before Christmas
when she drew her last breath.
While other families were gathered
to feast on their blessings
we received guests
mourning for our loss.

And yes, never had flowers
smelled strangely

Labels: death, poetry

The halls are empty and quiet
punctuated only by the soft murmurs
of the nurses at their station
waiting for that beacon of light
summoning them to attend to their ward.

I hesitated to enter your rooom
and smell the antiseptic bed,
the thin white blanket and pillow cases
that unmasked putrid odor of death
lingering in the air.

I know

life is that tiny droplet of liquid
entering your numbed vein;
life is the steady whir of the machine
bubbling away with each strenuous breath;
life is that tube stuck in your nose
where they feed you liquid food
blended with morphine.

We are unmindful of the torrential rain
that pours outside, impatient with each drop
of sugar in your IV, urging the bubbles
to go faster and faster.

I know

you are safe within the confines
of this sterilized room. Pain
has wandered off for now
and you are breathing peacefully
maybe dreaming of another time.

the light flickers,

the steady whir of the machine falters

then they go out!

rolly

Labels: death

# posted by rolly @ 5:06 AM