In Memorium

I was planning my life,
While they were planning your death.
Eighteen years old,
You breathed your last breath.

My schedule was crumpled,
Held tight in my fist;
As the tubes were detached,
And you got your last kiss.

I wanted to say something,
While your family was crying.
Words that would matter,
Give some meaning to dying.

But nothing would come,
What could be said?
So I got on with the day
And you were still dead.

 

Nancy Graves

Medical Student, Year 4