In the end, hands told the story
a common denominator among the dying
Some clenched in anger or pain or both
grasping sweat-soaked sheets on a rented hospital bed
that had taken over the room where family meals used to be shared
white gladiolas, long neglected, wilt in an empty vase
Some folded to accompany fervent prayers
offered by a minister speaking in thunderclaps and cloudbursts
as the faithful gathered with perfect posture to welcome the hereafter
a child, ignored, sleeps in a corner
Some reached out as if to delay the inevitable
begging for reprieve, an end to this suffering
immured in a place that reeked of antiseptic and rot
vials of medicine, insulin perhaps, untouched as morphine pumps whirl
Some were limp as if in acquiescence
relaxed as stories of days gone by were shared without regret
a last celebration of sorts, glasses of wine filled and refilled
containers of food from a favorite restaurant growing cold on the counter
Some were given to shake and tremble
the only obvious movement of a body in a seemingly endless slumber
an errant interruption of feigned peace on display by the light radiating from a single bulb
his slovenly dressed son rubs his scraggly beard and weeps
And she, as witness to final moments, embraced each one,
providing comfort and compassion and a hand to hold
photo: Pixabay
prompt: Mindlovesmisery’s Menagerie Wordle #161
Beautiful poetry as always 🙂
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Thank you so much 😊
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Noted the twist at the end…where the strongest was a departing hand….
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thanks for playing the wordle – you’ve certainly used the words in a very provocative and heartfelt way – capturing essence and feeling, accompanying the intensity and sometimes indifference of emotions that accompany death and bedside rituals ….
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Thank you. My sister is a nurse. I drew from her experiences.
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