On Taking Life

What does it take to stop a beating heart? To freeze the blood circling each organ? To stop the music a steady rhythm makes? What does it take to stop the changeless process of one’s lungs? To cause their lips to spread and never let out another exhale? To never allow oxygen to travel through their system again? What does it take to take someone’s father? To take someone’s husband? To take someone’s son? To not allow another glance to pass through from a loved one? To not allow the arrival back home, after a simple “see you later”? What does it take to watch someone relive their whole life before their eyes observe daylight for the last time? To fall to their end? For every ligament and muscle to give out? To be helpless and turn to dust? What does it take to live after that? To have a conscious mind? To be conscious, period? To begin again after ordering someone’s end? Does it take away?