Dying, Slowly Poem by Bob Bowers

It was his eyes
That told me of death.
Though I did not know it
At the time

At the time
Only the sheen of pain before me,
A viscous coat of fog through which he stared,
As if his very soul were oozing out

His body shrinking into the
Point my gaze created,
The intersection of two lines
Crossing paths on their way to eternity.

I saw only the plea, heard only the words
In my head, echoing in his own,
Felt the despair entombing his body
Immobile, laid out, on its final slab,

Mortuary disguised as loving care,
Night nurse monitoring the bleeps,
The caws, the squiggles of this underworld
Life, mirroring nature’s final gasp.

I did not see death then.
It came later.
I saw only the scream within,
I heard only the need, the cry

Seeking a forgiveness
I could not give, standing there,
Not knowing
It was death peering back.



02/15/2004