Steevez Rodriguez

“Godawful, is the word.
Sitting by somebody's death bed.
In death,
As they draw measured breaths,
Even the proudest of men are humble.
The weakest of them display bravery.
In death,
You watch them crumble.
Bits of memory scrubbed off,like with sandpaper.
Faces, with hints of child-like innocence returned.
Who am I?
You ask.
Your daughter, your son, your wife.
You say.
The memories flood, never stopping.
You almost wish to relive them.
But, all you can do is pray,
That the song they sing will be sung forever.
-Death awaits you, on your bedside.”
― Masiha Shabeer