Her hair was matted
Her face wrinkled
Her look screamed
and trickled pain.
Across the marble
Walking, pacing
Through the maze
That marked her home
With a stuttered step
She fell and died.
The floor greeted her fall
As if by some knowledge
Of it all, but I sat there
Looking at her
Sprawled out
On the cold floor,
Watching her life seep
Into linoleum,
Wondering if some
Emergency team would
Stop her playing death.
I remembered
The moment her gray eyes
Pierced mine and I remembered
Her walking and pacing, slowly
And I remember most the marble floor
Greeting her with open arms
Things only read
In stories and poems
And spoken about in hushed tones
Or heard from a distance, like
The faint whisper of the wind
I heard in her fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I just found your poems today. But it's like I've known them all my life. Check out my 'Looking for Encoragement In ICU.' Tom