Christmas Passing Poem by Micron Jan

I sit beside your bed
counting your breath
by the way your chest remembers to rise,
by the way it forgets
for a moment too long.

Outside, voices gather.
Someone laughs mid-song.
They sing about love arriving,
about peace being born—
a carol lifting into the dark
like this night has no weight,
like nothing is ending.

You are still warm.
Still here.
I hold your hand tighter,
as if that might anchor you
to this side of the room,
and every second asks me
how to say goodbye
without saying it.

Then your chest does not rise again.
Outside, they're laughing,
singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,
and I know I will hate that song forever—
because it keeps dancing
while you don't.