Today in my morning round,
Another patient died.
Waiting so patiently for Him to arrive
I saw him leave the bed
With no color on his wings
Another angel at his side.
To the so called bridge of death
Bleating cries within my sad heart.
Me and my body standing cold
the white uniform crying for cure
no light and the sound of secrets.
All the lectures, all the nursing clams.
the grace of death, pointing at the flying waves.
Bleached with sadness, I walked through the hall.
Deeply I cry, not for the first time
Although it is the first I meet Death.
The rest of the day minding every inch of my bones,
My eyes not clear, but filled with trembling fireflies
Softly we come, softly we go,
Mute path? Not too eager?
For the farewell is on our side!