They sat around the bed, <br />as if it were required to be small <br />in confrontation with the Death <br />of one more soul, a relative at that. <br /> <br />What were they waiting for, I ask <br />was it Cheyne-Stokes type breathing, <br />it is not pleasant to experience this, <br />the last small sounds are such defiant gurgles, <br />and no one in the healing arts will be <br />unmoved and sitting still while Death takes charge. <br /> <br />I often wonder, would I, when the moment comes <br />prefer the family surrounding me en masse, <br />would the embarrassment of taking leave, <br />the loss of functions and the theft of hope <br />be in the least so out of place that I would cringe <br />while long-dead eyes are staring into mine? <br /> <br />Would I prefer to have the comfort of a hand <br />given with love to see me through this final time, <br />who would it be and could she take such sudden leave, <br />would eye brows raise and jealous hearts pound now? <br /> <br />Perhaps my God will grant me what my Grandpa got, <br />'I shall not wake one morning' is what he did hope, <br />when I was small I always prayed his favourite one <br />'Tomorrow, if by just the grace of my dear God...' <br />the public death is just too much for fragile souls.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-of-another-soul/
