i remember my first time with dying

it came suddenly and stayed

i didn’t know how a dot could be a line

i feel it surreally, still today

the murmurs in the hallway easily blending

into the cycles of daily caretaking

we went through the patient list each morning

and silence would follow the reporting

it was her name, her status…nay, her brain’s state

for the stroke in her head kept growing

forcing her mind to keep going

so by morning there was again news for mourning

dot dot dot

how does a dot become a line

and when can we stop tracing

when should we stop tracing

wondering

breathing

nearly grieving

then someone’s lips were moving

seems like the clock kept ticking

our steps start following

to another name, a better state

living in moments of going