I first experienced death about 7 years ago.
I can remember the cyan hoodie I wore, the pink and blue rimmed trainers. The crisps my brother and I had
I sat by the bedside of my mum's friend in the hospital wing. She had cancer, and we were visiting her that day. I folded her a small paper swan as a gift and placed it on the end of her bed.
I remember she held my hand and how warm it was. How warm she was as she spoke to me
- and how soon after that she was no longer alive. I believe it was a week after speaking to her that she died.
It was and still is a strange thought - how something so warm, someone so alive, is there one moment and gone so quickly.
I didn't cry when I first heard of her death, it was more so shock. but 7 years later I mourn her death. I wish I went to her funeral instead of attending school like my mother wanted.
I feel detachment and apathy towards people and can feel it towards their death too, but whether it be 7 years, 10 years or 40 - that hospital visit will stay with me.
I hope to see her again. perhaps someday we will fold paper swans together.
(I am time complacent, overthinking things of no value as if I have eternal time. having time to spend like this is a privilege - I will be wiser with the remaining time I have)
YOU ARE READING
liberation
Poetrycollection of poems and thoughts my heart and brain cut open , fragments of my soul spooled onto digital pages. With every word typed , I experience a taste of liberation
