My grandmother's last day. I was 17 at the time. Big, big loss. Then my father 3 years later. No wonder I went totally off the rails.......


The Vigil

We sat around her bed
hushed, reverent,
While her breath fluttered
Like angel wings
In the cold dawn.

In the pallor of her face
It seemed that Death,
The uninvited guest,
Had joined the vigil
To await his hour.

Her small, cool hands
Rested, motionless,
Like sleeping butterflies
Upon the smooth
Neatly-folded sheets.

She stirred slightly;
Her breath quickened,
Seemed stronger.
Death stepped back:
Hope took his place.

Silence filled the room
As time glided by
On albatross wings
Drifting effortlessly,
Imperceptibly.

Then, a rattling sound:
Death approached, asked...
"Now?"
Hope, retreating, replied...
"Yes, now".

A sigh, then silence...
(Too long, too long!)
Death stepped forward...
Lifted her, gently...
Took her, kindly.




Poetry by Marie Cadavieco The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 714 times
Written on 2006-11-17 at 23:55

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