The Cold Embrace Of Death
She has reached the terminal before time,
with rogue cancer cells creeping in her lungs.
The pain pulsates in writhing sixteen-year-old body
with the rhythm of the last requiem of swan song.
Her drowsy empty eyes decline to close,
lest the final sleep undesired descends uncalled,
takes away the wonderful world from her
to the distant mist of merciless obscurity.
Her feeble sense sighs in forlorn intonation,
tells the tormented lungs, gasping for air:
‘Don’t give up yet, let’s fight together the bane,
until the journey ends at the edge of hope’.
She loses the battle; her last breath tells her mother:
‘Keep me in the cold chamber when I’m gone,
freeze me with all my dreams, not yet dead,
the way you kept me in the womb with care.
I’ll be in a spell of suspended animation
till they find the cure for cancer for me.
I’ll then return from the cold embrace of death
and live again with you in this beautiful world’.
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