I'VE WITNESSED DEATH

I'VE WITNESSED DEATH

I've witnessed death in all its sting
And yet the picture's incomplete.

A final breath, an empty shell,
Then stiff and cold on pale white sheets.

I was standing in the very room
In which my mother breathed her last.

No protest issued from her lips,
No grand finale final gasp.

Just a jerk of an arm and she was gone,
Like a fading moon into the dawn.

And my brother went to get the nurse
To see if it was really true
That a soul had crossed the puffy clouds
And risen high above the blue.

I've witnessed death in all its sting
And still it mystifies,

How life can flicker suddenly
And vanish from a loved one's eyes.

How swift as leaves upon the wind
The flesh dissolves to paltry dust.

The soul goes soaring where it will,
Unrestrained and glorious.

I've witnessed death in all its sting
And yet the picture's incomplete.

I stand before my mother's grave,
Muddy mysteries at my feet.

-Bruce Potts 
Revised Copyright 2014
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED