If I was there, Looking Through the Hospital Window.
My sister died in winter’s crush,
the air too still, the light too pale.
The world outside—a muted blur,
gray smudges pressed against the glass.
My sister left before him,
Dad spoke still, her childhood name.
A breath, a pause, a hollow space—
his hands reached out, but no one came.
The beeping slowed—the silence grew
as if the room itself withdrew.
I stood and watched, in her memory, a shape,
reflected in the window’s face.
Beyond the glass, the cold world hummed,
unmoved by one more fleeting life.
A car sped past, a bird took flight,
and somewhere else, a child laughed.
Inside, the bed lay empty now,
the sheets still warm, the light still cold.
Two souls departed, one by one,
and I, in dreamlike witness, left alone.
WoPoLi 
Leave a comment