Death is meeting your mama's or papa's eyes
but they do not stare back. They are looking elsewhere.
Death is holding your brother's or sister's hand
after the warmth has left, as if winter season has come.
Death is hiding inside the ICU, news does not flip the door,
and your pulse rate goes faster until death exits the room.
Death is your friend seeing it in the doorway
and he is at a lost whether to choose to cry or say good-bye.
Death is grieving for the lost while everyone else
is merry, and in the mirror, there is only you.
Death is hating good-byes, but the old memories
pour out like a downpour and the loneliness bites you.
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