untitled

my mom was cut
low by

mantel cell lymphoma
blastoid variant

on five november
at 1015 am

she was already
gone by the

time i got to
the hospital

i got to her room
& she was alone

peaceful

still warm
her mouth open

eyes closed

the sun was shining
through the window

i kissed her forehead
slid my fingers through

her hair
held her hand

sat in the chair
next to her bed

sat quietly
prayed

pulled the sheet over
her chin

raged a little against
death

but then remembered
st paul:

where is your sting
oh death?

my mind turned to the
spiritual

a feeling of peace &
comfort filled me

she was out of pain
& no more fear

death: a blessing
the curse of sin

defeated